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Aunt Meena taught me everything I know about the world and all the people who inhabit it. There is a limit on all magic. I can find the limit on whatever magic afflicts the prince.

“I admire your optimism,” the kingreplies, although his tone indicates the opposite. He gestures to the guards. “Let us see how you feel once you see this curse in person.”

I swallow hard. The guards seize me, grabbing my upper arms.

“Wait—”

“Enjoy your night, Never Queen.”

The guards drag me from the dining room. I struggle against them, but they hold firm, marching me down a set of narrow spiral stairs.

We reach a cold section of the castle. The rug fades into a tattered end, leaving bare brick, and the air is foul. The stairs fall into darkness with only a few lit torches on the wall. It is only when we are forced to descend them in single file that the guards let go of me.

I wrap my arms around myself to try and rub away the goosebumps springing up along my skin. I shiver against the cold. But also against the uneasy feeling I am being brought somewhere I am not meant to be.

We descend the steps slowly in the semi-darkness, unspeaking. The only thing breaking the silence is the occasional animalistic scream. It sounds both far away and far too close. It bounces off the walls, echoing around us. Despite the cold, sweat trickles down my back. There is a hard, metallic tang in my mouth from where I bit my tongue.

When we arrive at the bottom of the spiral staircase, the guards stop short. He holds up historch, and I peek out from behind him. The dread slowly growing in my stomach transforms into fully-fledged terror.

The dungeon is lighter than the stairs, lined with several large torches. They cast an eerie orange glow across the room. More noticeable than that is the huge domed cage in the middle.

It takes up almost the entirety of the dungeon. It is made of thick, ugly metal bars running out from the brick floor and curving up to meet at a point. But it is what is inside the cage that turns my blood cold.

Its size is breathtaking, hunched over in its cage and nearly as wide. Dull scales coat its skin, interspersed with large bulbous boils, red and painful. It wields thick, sharp claws instead of hands, but the knuckles are twisted and knotted as though broken. A thick tail lined with spikes swirls behind it menacingly. Its face is warped unnaturally, as though it has been crudely carved from wet clay. Angry yellow eyes glower at us from behind the bars.

I try to take a step back, but I bump into the guard behind me.

“We shall see you in the morning, miss.” He grins at me.

“No, please. Please do not leave me here.”

Panic rises in my chest.

“Order of the king, miss.” The other guard shrugs, and they both leave, slamming the door behind them.

With a shuddering breath, I turn and face the Beast of Mossgarde.

Chapter 13

The beast screams and throws its body against the bars, slamming violently against the metal before bouncing back. It accompanies each body slam with a roar that goes straight through my body and freezes it in place.

Angry. Feral.Hungry. My breath quickens.

“What curse is this?” I whisper to myself, eyes fixed on the beast.

As I do so, it throws its head back and roars.Even that sounds twisted, like the screech of metal against metal.

I try opening the door but no matter how hard I pull, it is locked. I suppose it was built to keep the beast at bay, so I would have little chance of breaking through. Resigned, I find the least damp section of the brick floor and sit down. I draw my knees up to my chest and wait for the prince to turn back. I pray the bars hold.

The air is sour, and the beast's screamsare punctuated by a dripping dampness on the walls. I squint at the creature through the cage and notice marks on its back. It looks like a large tattoo with swirling black ink, but there is something else in the pattern.

A word in dragon text blazes between its shoulder blades.

I try to get a better glimpse of it, but the beast twists and turns in anger, thumping against the cage. I shiver and wrap my arms around my knees. Absently, I roll my tongue around my mouth to rid it of the metallic taste.

“What a horrid place to be,” I say softly, half thinking out loud and half speaking to the animal in the cage.

It must hear me. Its head swivels to turn a blazing yellow glare onto me. For the first time, it ceases its relentless banging on the bars. But its mouth is still twisted into a snarl, teeth bared. I cock my head to the side, wondering if it can understand me.