I Walked Into The Beast’s Cage To Save A Princess — Now The King Is Forcing Me To Marry Him

Part 1

The princess’s scream tore through the stone corridor.

A raw, desperate sound that echoed off the damp dungeon walls.

I carried a tray for the guards, my hands trembling.

Princess Heather was in there, facing the Beast.

Another shriek shredded through the thick oak door.

I rounded the corner, nearly tripping over my skirts.

“Let her out,” I demanded.

“Her Royal Highness decided to risk her life to marry King Greg.”

“Everyone knows the first trial is to survive a night with the Beast.”

A deep growl erupted from inside the chamber.

“She’s calling it quits,” I said, stepping toward the iron ring.

“Can’t,” Dan said shortly.

I stared at them in disgust.

I had no business intervening in the lives of royalty.

But it wasn’t Heather’s fault King Greg picked brides this way.

“I’ll open the door,” I said, snatching the heavy iron key.

The guards scrambled back, stunned.

I shoved the key into the lock and turned.

The door exploded outward.

Heather slammed into me with the force of pure panic.

I stumbled sideways, my heel catching the stone threshold.

I fell hard onto the chamber floor.

The key clattered across the corridor.

Heather sprinted past the guards, leaving me in the darkness.

“Princess!”

Silence.

A low breath echoed from the shadows behind me.

The chamber stretched out, vast and suffocatingly dark.

In the far corner, a massive shape shifted.

I whispered, “Hello?”

“I’m not a competitor…

I’m just a maid.”

The shape rose.

Bigger than a wolf, bigger than a warhorse.

Dark fur rippled over slabs of muscle.

A head composed mostly of jagged teeth turned toward me.

It took a slow, heavy step forward.

I scrambled back, my fingers closing around the hilt of the discarded knife.

“Stay back,” I choked out, raising the blade.

The beast roared, shaking the dust from the ceiling.

It charged.

A mountain of muscle and fur barreled toward me, slamming my body against the stone wall.

All the air left my lungs.

Those terrible jaws opened inches from my throat.

I thrust the knife upward with everything I had.

The blade sank deep into the monster’s shoulder.

The beast paused.

I watched in horror as the torn flesh knitted itself back together.

Fur regrew over unmarked skin in seconds.

The beast had healing powers.

It couldn’t be killed.

It shook its massive head and took another deliberate step toward me.

“No,” I pleaded, holding the knife up again.

The beast stopped directly in front of me.

Its crimson eyes locked onto mine.

There was no rage in them.

Only a deep, bottomless sorrow.

It lowered its head and pressed its chest directly against the tip of my blade.

I gasped as the knife sank into its flesh again.

It shuddered, but didn’t pull back.

It pushed harder, driving the steel deeper into its own body.

I yanked the knife away and cried out to stop.

The wound closed instantly.

It stepped forward, pressing its chest against the blade once more.

It was trying to end its own suffering.

“Stop,” I whispered, dropping the knife entirely.

The blade clattered uselessly on the stone.

The beast went completely still.

With shaking hands, I reached out.

I pressed my palms to either side of its massive, terrifying head.

The world exploded.

Oceans of anguish flooded through me.

White-hot pain, confusion, and fear layered upon each other.

But beneath it all, a connection clicked into place.

Like a key turning in a lock buried deep in my soul.

My eyes rolled back.

The last thing I saw was those crimson eyes burning into mine before darkness took me.

I woke up to the feeling of polished marble beneath my cheek.

Torchlight blazed overhead, making my skull throb.

“She’s waking up,” a harsh voice echoed.

I pushed myself upright, wincing as the massive throne room swam into focus.

Nobles lined the hall, their eyes burning with disdain.

At the far end sat King Greg on a throne of dark iron.

Beside him stood Brenda, his advisor.

Guards grabbed my arms and hauled me onto a wooden stool.

“She ruined everything!”

Heather stood behind me, pointing an accusing finger.

“I was this close to passing the trial!”

I gaped at her.

She had been fleeing for her life.

“Your Majesty, she should be punished,” Heather demanded.

The nobles erupted into shouts.

A deep, inhuman growl echoed through my mind.

Not in the room.

In my head.

I stiffened, searching the hall.

Another growl vibrated against my skull, pulsing with primal protectiveness.

I could feel the beast.

King Greg demanded silence, his voice slicing through the chaos.

He descended the dais, stopping inches from me.

His dark eyes searched my face.

“How long was she in the chamber?” he asked Brenda.

“From sunset to sunrise,” Brenda replied stiffly.

The king’s jaw tightened.

“How did you calm a creature that has killed warriors and mages?” he whispered fiercely.

I swallowed hard.

“It… spared me.”

Bitterness twisted his handsome features.

“Spared you?

When it never spares anyone?”

He stepped back, addressing the silent room.

“No one has survived a full night in three years.

Until her.”

He pointed at me.

“You are officially invited to take the remaining red trials.

Win, and you will become my Queen.”

The room exploded in outrage.

“You may refuse,” Greg added softly over the noise.

“Return to your scrubbing.”

My heart leaped.

I could go back to the kitchens.

But then the rumble vibrated in my mind again.

Stay.

Accept.

The beast was terrified I would leave.

I looked at the King, my hands curling into fists.

I didn’t know what game he was playing, but the monster in the dungeon needed me.

“I accept,” I said loudly.

Greg nodded, his eyes flashing with something unreadable.

“You will face the Gauntlet in three days.”