Every sunset, Prince Adrian became a beast, and Princess Elara had one job: hide him before anyone saw. An old curse did this to him. Break it, and he stayed a man forever. Fail, and the villagers would kill what they thought was a monster. Tonight, they came for it early. Elara heard the dogs first. Then torches broke through the trees. The villagers had grown tired of waiting. They hunted the beast now, every night, in packs. For a week she and Adrian could not search the woods openly. Every path led to men with spears. Adrian's shoulders were already changing. His voice dropped low. "They're close." "I know a place," Elara said. She grabbed his hand and ran. The abandoned house sat at the edge of a clearing. Its roof sagged. Faded paint peeled from the siding. A cat watched from the porch, and a dog lay by the broken steps. Neither ran. Elara had noticed them days ago and remembered. She shoved Adrian through the crooked door as the last light died. His body twisted. Claws split his fingers. Fur spread across his arms. Within seconds, the beast crouched where the prince had stood, breathing hard, eyes gone gold. Elara barred the door with a fallen beam. The torches spread across the clearing. Voices called for blood. "Search the house!" someone shouted. She needed them gone, and she needed them fooled. Inside, a wooden crate sat against the wall, packed with food and drink. Bread, fruit, bottles, even bright stones jumbled together like a peddler's haul. Someone had hidden it here and never returned. Elara grabbed an armful. She kicked the back door open and hurled bread and bottles into the far trees. Glass shattered against bark. The dog outside barked and bolted after the noise. "There! Behind the house!" a hunter yelled. The torches turned. The pack charged toward the crashing sound and the barking dog, away from the door where the beast waited. Elara pressed her back to the wall and did not breathe. Hooves and boots faded into the trees. The clearing went quiet. She had bought the night. Inside, the beast paced by the barred door. Elara sat against the crate and pulled a diamond from the mess. She turned it in the dim light. A drunk peddler would not pack jewels with sandwiches. Someone had gathered these to trade for something rare. Under the crate she found a folded paper, water-stained but readable. It was a buyer's list. At the bottom, one line: "Beast's blood. Pays triple." Elara's hands went cold. The villagers were frightened, yes. But someone was paying good coin for the beast, dead. The hunters were not only afraid. They were hired. She looked at Adrian, then at the door. Hiding was no longer enough. To break the curse, she first had to find who wanted his blood.

The hunters would return by nightfall. Elara stood in the dark house and knew it. The dog's barking had bought them this night, but no more. Come dusk, the beast would wake again, and the pack would come straight back to this clearing. She had to move Adrian somewhere safe before sunset. She knew only one person who might help. She wrapped the sleeping beast in a blanket and waited for dawn to change him back. When Adrian woke a man again, pale and shaking, she led him through the trees to the herbalist's cottage. Rosemary Willowbrook had sold her mother tinctures for years. She was the only villager who had never once joined the hunts. Elara knocked. The old woman opened the door with dirt under her nails and a knife in her apron. She looked at Adrian, then past them at the empty path, then back at the blood dried on his sleeve. "Inside," Rosemary said. "Both of you. Quick." She shut the door and dropped a bar across it. The cottage smelled of crushed leaves and smoke. Jars of roots lined the walls. "They hunt him," Rosemary said. Not a question. "At every sunset," Elara said. "He turns. They want him dead. Someone pays them for it." She pulled the buyer's list from her coat and held it out. "Beast's blood. Triple price." Rosemary read it once. Her mouth went tight. She set the paper down and said nothing for a long moment. "I can't keep you here," she said at last. "They search the village houses now. Mine next, maybe tonight." She crossed the room and moved a basket aside. Beneath it sat a trapdoor. "Root cellar. Dug into the hill behind. It runs back under the rocks. No one knows of it but me." Elara looked down into the dark hole. "They won't find him there?" "They won't find the door," Rosemary said. "I'll see to that." Elara helped Adrian down the ladder. The cellar was cold and smelled of earth. It was safe. For the first time in a week, her shoulders dropped. Then Rosemary spoke above her. "I'll help you. But I need something in return." Elara climbed back up. "Name it." "Silverthread moss. Grows deep in the woods, high on the cold rocks." The old woman's voice stayed flat. "A man I've cared for many years is dying. The moss is the only cure. The first frost will kill it. And him." She met Elara's eyes. "The woods are full of your brother's hunters. I'm too slow for them. You're not." Elara understood. The cellar would hide Adrian. But to keep it, she had to walk into the same woods crawling with men who wanted his blood. "How long until frost?" she asked. "Three days," Rosemary said. "Maybe two." Elara looked at the dark hole where her brother now hid. Safe, for now. The price of it waited in the trees.

The moss was gone. Elara stood in Rosemary's broken doorway and watched grey light touch the trees. Adrian would stay a beast past sunset. The frost had already killed the last plants by the stream. She had one day to find another way, and no plan at all. So she ran into the woods, because the woods were the only place she knew to look. She found two wolf pups shivering under a fallen log. The grey one pressed close to the black one. Both watched her with wide eyes. "Are you lost?" she asked. "No," said the black pup. "We know where we are." "We don't," said the grey one. His voice shook. "We can't find the pack. Milla says she isn't scared. She is." Milla snapped at him, then looked away. Elara knelt. "I'm looking for a cure. For a curse. Does your pack know these woods?" A shape rose behind the trees. It was a wolf, but huge, taller than Elara standing. His grey fur ran silver at the shoulders. His eyes caught hers and held steady. The pups did not run. They pushed toward him. "Noble," Milla said. The fear left her voice. Elara's hand went to the empty leather charm in her pocket. Nothing to throw. Nothing to fight with. She stayed still. "You are afraid," Noble said. His voice was low and flat. "Everything is, when it sees me." "I'm not here to hunt," Elara said. "I'm looking for a way to break a curse. A beast at sunset." Noble lowered his great head toward the pups. "These two left their pack. I was bringing them back." He looked at Elara. "You spent your medicine on the stone one. The collector. I smelled the burn." "How do you know that?" "The woods talk. Stone one has moss in his cracks. Your threads live in him now." Noble turned his head north. "He went to a house. Wood siding. Peaked roof. He is hurt and slow. He keeps the old debts there. Carved stones. Maybe the one that made your curse." Elara's heart jumped. "You'd show me?" "I owe the small ones a safe path home," Noble said. "Yours lies the same way. I will walk you to the edge. No farther. I don't enter houses." He moved through the trees. The pups trotted at his heels. Elara followed until the forest thinned. A house stood in the clearing, warm wood under a snug roof, one window glowing. A black bear slept across the porch, old and heavy, its coat dark as tar. "The guard," Noble said. "Past it is the stone one's hoard." He stopped at the tree line. "This is my edge." The pups watched her go. Elara stepped into the open. Adrian was still a beast, and would be by sunset. But the moss in the collector's body had left a trail, and the trail ended here. Behind the sleeping bear waited the debts. Maybe the curse that started them all.