The Beast had not been wrong.

With her mind still whirling with her newest theory, Kat had set about to find cleaning instruments. She found them in a small storage space in the kitchen, a cavernous room half hidden in the ground on the other side of the staircase from the dungeon.

Once she carried the necessary supplies up the stairs, she started her war on dust. It wasn't as stubborn and dangerous as the Beast, but had the advantage of far superior numbers.

It took half a day of grueling work to finally make her new room presentable and fresh. But as she finally left the bucket, broom and cloths outside on the hall, she had to admit it had been a long time since she'd felt so much satisfaction.

The room was even more beautiful now that it was clean and no longer smelled like moths. And at that moment, it hit her that it belonged to her. So, like the excited teenage girl she'd never gotten to be, she started opening all drawers and doors. Just to check they were clean, of course.

Apart from the dresses in her wardrobe, she had hunting breeches, high boots and shirts, which all seemed to fit her. It eluded her why the Beast had so many women's clothes, but she decided not to dwell on that. She wouldn't be wearing them anyway. They were much too fancy for her cleaning job.

A thought crossed her mind as she shut the wardrobe doors. The clothes, the torn tapestry downstairs... What if he'd had a sister or a daughter? And if he had... Where was she? Was she even alive anymore? Had she been broken, just like all that furniture?

Shaking away the gruesome thoughts, she continued exploring. To the back of the room, a small door led to a wash room with a chamber pot and bassinet for her to wash. It was the most luxurious place she'd ever been in. And she wanted to scream for some reason.

Maybe it was excitement, maybe it was frustration, maybe it was anger or sadness. She had never felt so confused in her life. Because if she were completely honest, if it weren't for the lack of news from her father, she would be truly enjoying this.

In spite of everything, this felt like a book. An adventure of her own with excitement in the foreground and the potential for so much growth. She wasn't sure how and when, but she was sure she'd escape this castle and return to the village. And when she did, she wouldn't be the same girl who ridden out of there in search of her father.

I will do this. I will succeed.

With that encouraging thought in mind, she scurried down the stairs and in the hall filled with portraits. Most of them were once again oddly stationary, as if they'd turned into normal oil paintings, but Joseph fixed her with a shrewd stare.

"You look flustered, beautiful," he noticed.

She'd had enough of this beautiful nonsense. She walked to him and reached out her hand, holding it half an inch from the frame.

"Hello. My name is Katherine. But you can call me Kat."

He stared at her for a second, then raised his hand to mirror her pose. "Hello. My name is Joseph. But you can call me Joey."

The shorter name seemed to suit this vivacious man much better than his full one. "Very nice to make your acquaintance, Joey."

"Likewise, Kat." He grinned at her, his eyes twinkling with startling realism. "So, what did he say?"

"That I have to clean the castle."

"Was he rude?"

That was such an odd question. "Isn't he always?"

Joey's grin only widened for some reason, but then his mouth fell into a frown. He pursed his lips as if to hide his displeasure then returned to a smile, but it seem much more tame than before, a lot less honest.

"What's going on?" she enquired. His reaction was peculiar to say the least, as was his question. The silence from the other portraits suddenly rang loud.

She turned her eyes from Joey and scanned the rest of the occupants. Except for William and the sandy haired youth, the others... Her eyes widened in shock. There were two more men near the top who seemed to be sleeping, but apart from them, all the other portraits had lost their life. The realism in them was gone, leaving behind normal paintings of men in different positions, void of realism. They weren't even very good portraits.

"What happened to them?" she breathed.

Joey and William both looked upward, interest on both their faces.

"They're just out, doing other things," Joey answered with a shrug.

"What do you mean, doing other things?" What other thing was there for a portrait to do?

"Tending to their jobs. To their families," William supplied. "Also, Miss Kat, I do not believe we've been properly introduced. I am Sir William."

"Sure, tack that title in there," Joey mumbled.

"You'd be a knight too if you had more discipline."

Kat nodded absently, taking in the news. "So... You are actually real people? And the portraits are like... Communication channels?"

"Very well put," Sir William agreed. "You really are an intelligent girl."

Kat didn't feel very intelligent at the moment. Just a very powerful urge to sit down. "So all of you are here by choice? How do these portraits even work? Are they part of the curse?" Or other forbidden magic? But she didn't want to say that, place blame on the people who had been so nice to her so far.

"You know about the curse?" Joey asked in shock.

"Be quiet, Joseph," Sir William hissed.

She turned to him briefly before returning her attention to Joey. "Everyone knows about the curse. So it's really the duke then, isn't it?"

There was a slight pause from both the portraits before they finally nodded. She nodded too, her mind whirling. That poor, poor man. He didn't look old at all, but maybe that was part of the curse. And why the wolf head was silver. Maybe that dead look in his eyes had something to do with losing his son.

The thought made her nauseous. "How it must have hurt to lose him," she whispered.

"What are you talking about?" Joey asked.

"The duke's son. How it must have hurt when he took his life."

"What son?" Joey's face was a painted mask of true confusion.

"Wait." Sir William raised his hands. "What rumors have been circulating throughout your village?"

"That Cecile cursed the duke and his son took his life, but the wolf-man is the duke..." She paused. It didn't sound very coherent, but there had been so many variations, she couldn't quite remember which one the townsfolk ended up believing.

"The duke has been dead for years," William said, his voice flat and impersonal. "This is the old duke's son, but since his father has been dead since he was a child, he picked up the title then."

"Oh." Right. She was supposed to know that. Maybe. No one spoke about the duke anymore. It was all about the wolf-man now.

"Interesting rumors," Joey said, rubbing his chin. "What about the curse?"

"What about it?" Kat asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Did you figure out what it does?"

"Turns him into a man with a wolf's head and terrible manners?"

Joey huffed, but Sir William threw him a warning glare.

"You should go about your business," the older man said. "It's best you listen and do not seek his presence. He becomes... Unpleasant at times." He looked towards the floor still riddled with broken furniture.

Kat sighed and started picking up discarded chair pieces. No manners and anger issues. But she would change that. Because, no matter the reason, violence like this was never justified. Cursed or not, he could be better and she was going to prove it.

"What are you doing?" Sir William asked in shock.

"Cleaning. Isn't that why I'm here?" She picked up a few more pieces and dropped them next to the door that lead to the kitchen.

It took her about ten more rounds of carrying to get all the debris next to the kitchen door. By the time she was done, the sun had set behind the tall windows and her stomach rumbled with hunger. She hadn't eaten anything that day.

Exhausted and annoyed with the idea that all that damage and mess could have been prevented, she raided the enormous cool room and started cooking a pot roast. She hadn't in ages, but years of cutting, seasoning and boiling had turned the motions into reflex.

As she toiled away in the kitchen, her mind spun with the information. She'd deduced there was a curse, but this was the first confirmation of it. It also settled what she already knew, that the Beast was indeed her host and there was no one in that castle except for the two of them.

What bothered here were other minor details. Like the portraits being real people who could walk away. Where were they? And why in the name of all fairies in the realm did they return to this mad man?

Joey's question about the curse was also unsettling. Was there more to it? Could it even be broken? Why would she care anyway?

The sum of her annoyance and worry finally became clear. Why was she there? And even more importantly, how did K know to tell her to run? She'd first assumed he was the one helping her, trapped somewhere in the castle, just like her. Was he one of the men in the portraits?

She pondered on this as she sat at the long wooden table that was meant to fit numerous servants and ate her dinner alone. She'd cooked too much for one person, but given that the Beast's cooking skills were sub par, she believed he would appreciate some proper food.

So before cleaning after herself, she prepared a plate for him and took it with her up the stairs and into the hall.

"Gods, that looks delicious," Joey said the moment she spotted her. "Makes me wish I had a sense of smell."

"Thank you," she replied with a small courtesy that assured the food would stay in balance. "Is he in?"

"You shouldn't seek him out, girl," Sir William said immediately.

"I just want to leave him his food. Thought he'd appreciate a proper meal."

"Just leave it on his desk, then," Joey said rapidly, right before Sir William started his protest.

Kat didn't really see the big deal. So the Beast was unpleasant. She'd kill him with kindness. There was nothing worse for a rude person than to be shown how to behave and she intended to do just that.

So she whirled around and headed across the floor and inside the work room. Without knocking because she would just leave the food and be out before he even knew she was--

"What are you doing in here?" the Beast growled from next to the door.

She jumped so high the plate flew out of her hand and right into his face, covering the snout with mashed potatoes.

"Crap. I'm sorry," she stammered.

"Oh, hell." He wiped at his face with clumsy gloved hands and for a moment she wondered how much the wolfish traits extended.

"I just wanted to bring you some food."

"Did I ask for food? Get out!"

"Really, I didn't mean to--"

"Out!"

Convincing enough for her. She twirled on her heels and hurried out of the room. She wasn't sure she'd imagined it, but the sound of laughter seemed to be following her up the stairs and into her bed chamber. For good measure, she locked the door, though something told her he could break through despite the lock.

If he wanted to. If he truly wanted to get to her. To kill her.

Because she was certain that hadn't gone well with her host. Maybe she should just listen.

Maybe she should really just leave him alone.

Kat hated herself the next morning for her cowardice. After a strange night's sleep in a bed much too soft and lush, she decided that if she wanted to survive this debacle properly and get out of there, she had only two options: tame the Beast, or slay the Beast.

Both implied getting close to him, so she had to try harder and stop being afraid. The magical day he'd predicted had passed and she had not been killed. So with that fortifying thought in mind, she decided to apply the age-old fail safe method of gaining a man's heart. Use his stomach. She was a good cook, she knew that. So she would insist to feed him until he took the bait.

But not angering him was also an important part of her new plan, so after making breakfast for herself and her captor, eating hers, and leaving his outside his work room for him to find, she started cleaning the kitchen and the corridors leading to the portrait hall.

Though cleaning was tedious, the work seemed much easier when she had so much to discover. Once the grime was scrubbed away, the walls were shiny, the furniture new and rich, and the light shone through the many windows. It was a beautiful place and giving it its former shine gave her an immense sense of pride and satisfaction.

What made her even happier was that the Beast took the food. Breakfast, lunch and dinner. And she'd discovered he spent most of his time outdoors, either tending to his roses or out of the castle grounds completely, probably out hunting or stealing food or something, because each time he left, the pantry filled upon his return.

Unfortunately, he also locked her in when he left, so she couldn't escape. He'd also locked every window on the ground floor, just to make sure she didn't have an alternative way out.

This discovery lit the flames of anger within her, turning into a smothering fog inside her lungs. It was further fanned by the worrying fact that no one was coming for her.

Which meant that either her father was really dead, or Donnie couldn't be bothered to come and help her. Both thoughts made her want to scream and cry.

Maybe the Beast had raised the village himself in the dead of night to make sure no one came for her. It sounded self centered and overdramatic, but at this point, she needed to justify it somehow.

It became apparent after a few days that the village still stood. Just as she'd finished cleaning every room on her corridor, she took her supplies, ready to tackle the staircase.

She froze before she reached the top step. Voices drifted to her. It wasn't unusual. Joey and Sir William often conversed. But this time, it was the Beast as well, and the way he spoke, which such liberty and a trace of command in his voice... It sent a shiver down her spine and spiked her curiosity.

"How many loads?" he was asking.

"Three more than last month, sire," one of the portraits answered.

"This is a little odd. Has anyone been there lately?"

Kat took a few steps towards the staircase, just to catch a glimpse of her host. He stood tall and strong before his painted servants, on hand under his furry chin. The wolf head was as dead as ever.

There was a muttering of voices, then someone said, "Maybe you should ask your guest."

He shook his head. "How about the rest of the kingdom?"

"No changes," another of the men said. "All is silent."

"Don't bullshit me, Travis. What about the Talians?"

"You know the borders are closed."

"Our borders should be closed with Endir, not Talia." The Beast let out a sigh and he almost sounded defeated. "No matter. Fer will do a much better job once he gets on that cursed throne."

Joey mumbled something Kat couldn't catch, but it set off a cacophony of opinions from the other portraits, their words mixing and forming nothing coherent.

"Enough."

The Beast didn't have to raise his voice. The authority in that one word silenced them all.

"Joey, I'd appreciate if you kept that line of thought to yourself. As for the rest of you... Let's focus on what we can do." With a wave of a gloved hand, he dismissed his portraits.

Kat pulled back into the corridor, afraid he might come up and realize she'd been eavesdropping. He did not, instead entering his work room.

This interaction stayed on her mind as she continued her chores. It sort of explained why those men returned. Since the Beast was a duke, it was obvious that he had been raised to rule. But she'd never assumed he still ruled over anything, not with that horrid wolf head.

It was so very confusing, and for some reason, the conversation together with lack of news from her village only amplified her frustration. So she focused all her energy on cooking and cleaning for the Beast, forcing herself to consider every meal he ate as a small victory just to get the tiniest bit of satisfaction.

Yet, this silent war wasn't fixing what was important. She still had no news of her father and she felt more alone than ever. K hadn't written again after that one cryptic warning, and neither had she.

Because she had no idea how he knew she should run and when. Because she was ashamed she hadn't listened to him. Because half of her didn't know what to say to him anymore. The other half wanted to tell him everything.

Maybe he was one of the men in the portraits. But if he was, she was too afraid to ask.

As the sun rose and set over the castle, her loneliness pushed on her most. So much that she decided to ask the Beast of news from her village. Except, he seemed to have disappeared. If it wasn't for eating the food she left him, Kat would have thought him a figment of her imagination.

Yes, the loneliness weight worse of all.

There's a brand new scene in here because I wanted to show a bit more of who the Beast is when he thinks no one is looking. So, thoughts?

I'm really curious how you're feeling about the plot right about now.

I should really continue writing soon because I'm running out of chapters, lol.