The night air was cold against Marcus's skin as the guards shoved him toward the waiting carriage.

It was a sleek, black vehicle. It looked far too expensive for this grimy alleyway.

Before Marcus stepped inside, he paused.

His eyes locked onto the emblem painted on the lacquered door panel.

The moon broke through the clouds for a brief second. It illuminated the crest in silver.

It depicted a falcon. Its wings were spread wide in a dive.

In its sharp talons, the bird clutched a broken arrow.

Marcus frowned. His mind raced through the heraldry books he had studied.

He knew the Roselle Rose. He knew the Blackthorn Serpent.

He knew the shields of the border counts and the banners of the coastal barons.

He did not know this falcon.

That fact terrified him more than a known enemy would have.

An unknown crest meant a secret lineage.

Or worse, a house that operated in the shadows.

Or maybe, just a minor house.

"Get in," the guard grunted. He shoved Marcus forward.

Marcus climbed into the carriage. He moved awkwardly, trying to keep his balance with his hands bound.

The little girl followed him. She moved with an eerie grace.

Inside, the carriage was lined with velvet. It smelled of lavender and iron.

Lady Elowen was already seated. She occupied the bench facing them.

She smiled. It was a pleasant, polite expression.

It looked entirely out of place on a slave buyer.

"Please," she said softly. "Make yourselves comfortable."

Marcus sat on the edge of the plush seat. The girl sat beside him.

The carriage lurched into motion.

Marcus looked at Elowen. She was watching them with bright, excited eyes.

"Where are we going?" Marcus asked. He tried to keep his voice steady. "This doesn't look like the way to the noble district."

Elowen let out a soft laugh. It sounded like wind chimes.

"The noble district is so stuffy," she said. "Too many eyes. Too many rules."

She leaned forward slightly. The jewels at her throat caught the lantern light.

"I prefer privacy for my... hobbies. My estate is quiet. Secluded."

"Hobbies," Marcus repeated. The word tasted like bile.

"Yes," Elowen said. "Everyone needs an outlet. A way to express their true self."

She looked at the little girl. Her gaze lingered on the girl's small, pale hands.

"You have lovely hands, my dear," Elowen cooed. "So delicate. Like porcelain."

The girl did not shrink away. She simply looked at Elowen. Her black eyes were empty of fear.

Marcus stiffened. He shifted his body slightly. He tried to block the girl from Elowen's view.

"You look tense," Elowen said.

Her voice was light. It was conversational. Like she was commenting on the weather.

Marcus straightened his posture. He forced himself to meet her gaze.

"I am a slave," Marcus replied. He kept his voice steady. "Tension is part of the job description."

Elowen smiled. It was a polite, porcelain smile. It didn't reach her eyes.

"You are not a slave," she corrected gently. "You are... something else, something special."

Marcus gulped audibly.

She reached into a small compartment lined with velvet. She pulled out a crystal decanter.

Red wine sloshed gently inside.

"Wine?" she offered. She held out a glass.

"No," Marcus said. "Thank you."

"Suit yourself," she shrugged. She poured a glass for herself.

She swirled the liquid and took a delicate sip. Her gaze drifted to the little girl.

The girl stared back. Unblinking.

Elowen's smile widened slightly. She seemed delighted by the lack of reaction.

Marcus looked out the window. The trees were blurring past. They were thick and dark.

They were leaving civilization behind.

The girl next to him did not tremble. She reached out and took hold of his sleeve again.

Her grip was light. It was the only sign that she was aware of the danger.

Or perhaps she wasn't. Perhaps she was just steadying herself against the sway of the carriage.

Marcus looked down at her. He felt a surge of useless protectiveness.

He was a life coach. He solved problems with words.

But words were useless against a crazy person like Elowen

The carriage rattled on into the darkness.

✧✧✧

The ride lasted for an hour. Maybe two.

The road grew rougher. The carriage bounced violently.

Finally, they slowed to a halt.

"We are here," Elowen announced. She sheathed her small knife.

The door opened. A guard waited outside with a torch.

"My Lady," the guard bowed, and then shifted his gaze to the other two in the carriage.

"Both of you, out," the guard ordered.

Marcus stepped down. His boots sank into soft, damp earth.

They were in a dense forest. The trees blocked out the moon.

There was no mansion. There was no estate.

In front of them was a cliff face. A gaping mouth of a cave loomed in the rock.

It was fitted with a heavy iron gate.

"Welcome to my sanctuary," Elowen said. She stepped down from the carriage.

She gestured to the cave.

"It is humble," she said. "But the acoustics are wonderful."

Two guards grabbed Marcus and the girl. They pushed them toward the cave entrance.

The air grew colder as they approached. It smelled of wet stone and old rust.

They passed through the gate.

Torches lined the walls. They cast long, dancing shadows.

A stone staircase spiraled down into the earth. It was steep and narrow.

"Watch your step," Elowen called out cheerfully. "It is a long way down."

They descended.

Marcus counted the floors as they passed them.

The first level was lined with cells. He saw shapes huddled in the darkness.

He heard low moans. The sound of chains rattling.

They did not stop.

They went deeper. The air grew heavier. It became hard to breathe.

The second level was quieter. But the smell was worse.

It smelled of copper. It smelled of rot.

Elowen hummed a tune as she walked. She trailed her hand along the damp wall.

They reached the bottom. The third level.

It was smaller than the others. There were only a few cells here.

The bars were thick. The locks were heavy.

"The VIP suite," Elowen said. She gestured to a cell at the far end.

"Put them in there."

The guards shoved Marcus and the girl into the cell.

Marcus stumbled. He caught himself against the wall.

The floor was cold stone. There was no straw. Just a single, thin blanket in the corner.

The door slammed shut. The lock clicked.

Elowen stood on the other side of the bars. She looked at them like pets in a cage.

"Rest now," she said. "You must be tired from the journey."

She turned to the guard.

"Feed them," she ordered. "Keep their strength up. We will begin tomorrow."

She gave Marcus a little wave. Then she turned and walked back toward the stairs.

Her footsteps faded.

Silence descended on the cell.

It was a heavy, suffocating silence.

Marcus sank to the floor. He leaned his back against the cold stone.

He looked at the girl.

She sat on the folded blanket.

She looked at the bars. Then she looked at Marcus.

Marcus closed his eyes. He tried to think. He tried to plan.

But his mind was blank. Fear had finally caught up with him.

He was trapped in a hole in the ground. With a madwoman. And a child.

And no one knew where he was.

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