Morning came quietly to Ivelle.
For a while, she did not know that she had awakened.
She remained still beneath the unfamiliar blanket, her breathing slow and even, while the pale warmth of sunlight seeped through the curtains and settled across the room. Somewhere beyond the walls, she could hear the muffled movement of people beginning their day, the distant clatter of dishes, the soft creaking of wooden floors beneath hurried footsteps, and the occasional murmur of voices drifting through the corridor.
It was peaceful.
Almost unnaturally so.
Ivelle’s brows slowly drew together.
Something was wrong and she opened her eyes.
For several seconds, she simply stared at the unfamiliar ceiling above her, her mind still clouded by sleep. Then she shifted beneath the blanket, intending to turn over, and the movement suddenly brought a strange realization to her.
This was not her room.
Ivelle’s eyes widened.
She immediately sat upright.
Her gaze swept across the unfamiliar surroundings.
The room was modest, but considerably cleaner and more comfortable than the small room she shared with Liriel. A wooden table stood near the window, beside which rested a basin filled with fresh water. A narrow wardrobe occupied one corner, while a single chair had been positioned beside the bed.
Nothing was familiar.
Her breathing quickened.
Then the memories returned.
The capital.
The three men, the chase, alley, cliff, river, stranger.
Ivelle’s hand instinctively went to her neck.
She could almost feel the cold blade against her skin again.
Then she remembered the man’s face.
Those strange blue eyes.
The wound on his arm.
The impossible light that had appeared beneath his skin.
And then...
She had fainted.
Ivelle stared at the blanket covering her lap.
"How did I get here?"
Her voice was barely more than a whisper.
She threw the blanket aside and stood.
The moment her feet touched the floor, she noticed the state of her clothes.
They were still damp in places, wrinkled from the river, and stained with mud from the chase. The hem of her dress was discolored, while several strands of her blonde hair remained tangled against her face.
Someone had brought her here.
The realization sent a chill through her.
Ivelle hurried toward the door and pulled it open.
The familiar scent of polished wood and freshly prepared food immediately reached her.
She froze.
Her eyes slowly widened.
She knew this place.
The corridor.
The dark-red carpet, golden lamps mounted along the walls.
The polished banister leading toward the lower floor.
It was the inn.
The very same inn she had visited the previous night.
The same place where she had stood before the attendant and desperately asked whether he had seen Liriel.
Ivelle’s expression hardened.
How had she returned here?
She descended the stairs carefully, her injured foot protesting beneath her weight. The old wound throbbed sharply, reminding her of the injury she had been forced to ignore for months because she could not afford a physician.
When she reached the bottom of the staircase, she stopped.
The attendant was standing behind the counter.
The same man.
The same face.
Ivelle recognized him immediately.
He was speaking with one of the servants, but the moment he noticed her standing at the bottom of the stairs, his conversation stopped.
His eyes met hers.
For one brief moment, surprise crossed his face.
Then it disappeared.
A polite smile replaced it.
"Good morning, miss," he greeted, inclining his head respectfully.
Ivelle stared at him.
The change in his manner unsettled her more than outright hostility would have.
Last night, he had barely been willing to acknowledge her.
Now he was speaking to her as though she were an honored guest.
"Good morning," Ivelle replied cautiously.
She approached the counter, her eyes never leaving him.
"How did I get here?"
The attendant’s expression remained composed.
"The gentleman who brought you here carried you into the inn sometime during the night," he explained. "He asked that you be given a room and that you receive whatever assistance you required."
Ivelle’s brows knitted together.
"The gentleman?"
The attendant nodded.
"Yes, one handsome gentleman."
Her heart skipped.
The stranger.
"He brought me here?"
"Yes, miss."
There was something in the way the attendant said it that made Ivelle study him more carefully.
He seemed unusually respectful whenever he spoke about the man.
"Where is he now?" she asked.
The attendant hesitated briefly before shaking his head.
"I cannot say, miss. He left after ensuring that everything had been arranged for you."
Ivelle looked toward the entrance as though she expected the stranger to appear.
He was gone.
She turned back toward the attendant.
"Last night, when I came here looking for my friend, you didn’t seem particularly interested in helping me."
The man’s expression changed slightly.
His smile became more restrained.
"I apologize for my behavior, miss."
"You didn’t even answer my question."
"I was mistaken."
Ivelle’s eyes narrowed.
"You were very certain of yourself last night."
The attendant lowered his gaze.
"And I regret it."
She continued staring at him.
There was something she did not understand.
Why had his attitude changed?
Why was he suddenly treating her with such respect?
And more importantly, why did the mention of the stranger seem to change everything?
The attendant straightened and gestured toward the dining area.
"Regardless, the gentleman who brought you here paid the staff and instructed us to ensure that you were comfortable. If there is anything you require, you only need to ask."
Ivelle hesitated.
Then her stomach betrayed her with a quiet growl.
The attendant heard it.
His lips twitched slightly. "You may wish to eat first."
Ivelle’s cheeks warmed with embarrassment.
"I haven’t eaten since yesterday."
"Then you should not remain standing."
He immediately instructed one of the servants to prepare breakfast.
Ivelle followed the servant into the dining area and sat near the window.
The food arrived shortly afterward.
Warm bread.
Fresh fruit.
Eggs.
A bowl of steaming soup.
For a moment, Ivelle simply stared at it.
Then hunger overcame everything else.
She ate.
Slowly at first, afraid that eating too quickly would make her sick, but soon her hunger became impossible to restrain. Her body seemed determined to reclaim everything she had lost during the previous day.
Yet even as the food filled her stomach, another thought continued pressing against the back of her mind.
Liriel.
Ivelle’s hand slowly lowered.
Her appetite disappeared.
She had survived the night but her friend had not been found then pushed the plate away and returned to the counter.
The attendant looked up when he saw her approaching.
"Was the meal satisfactory, miss?"
"It was."
She hesitated.
Then she asked, "I need to find someone."
The man’s expression became more attentive.
"Your friend?"
Ivelle nodded.
"Her name is Liriel. She disappeared yesterday after we separated."
The attendant folded his hands over the counter.
"Have you reported her disappearance?"
"To whom?"
"The city officials."
Ivelle’s expression changed.
For a moment, she said nothing.
Then she gave him a faint, humorless smile.
"You sound very certain that they will help."
"They are responsible for such matters."
"Are they?"
There was no accusation in her voice, but the question carried enough doubt to make the attendant glance away.
Ivelle noticed.
Her eyes sharpened.
"You don’t believe they will help either."
"I did not say that."
"You didn’t have to."
The attendant remained silent.
A strange tension settled between them.
Then, after glancing around the dining room to make certain no one was paying attention, the man leaned forward.
"There is something you should know."
Ivelle immediately straightened.
"What?"
His voice dropped.
"There have been rumors lately."
"What kind of rumors?"
The attendant glanced toward the entrance.
Then toward the staircase.
Only after he seemed satisfied that nobody was listening did he speak again.
"People have been disappearing."
Ivelle’s fingers slowly curled around the edge of the counter.
"Who?"
"Mostly women."
Her heart sank.
"And you think Liriel is one of them?"
"I don’t know."
His expression became uneasy.
"But there are whispers that some of those who disappear are not merely kidnapped."
Ivelle stared at him.
"What happens to them?"
The attendant swallowed.
Then he lowered his voice until she could barely hear him.
"They are sold."
Ivelle went completely still.
The word seemed to echo inside her mind.
Sold.
Her lips parted slightly.
"Sold?"
The attendant nodded.
"Slave trade."
Ivelle’s expression changed instantly.
"Where?"
The attendant immediately looked around.
"You mustn’t ask that so loudly."
"I don’t care."
Her voice trembled, but it was not from fear alone.
"If there is even a possibility that my friend is there, I need to know."
The man rubbed the back of his neck uneasily.
"I shouldn’t be telling you any of this."
"Then don’t tell me." Ivelle leaned closer. "Show me where."
The attendant looked at her for a long moment.
Then he sighed.
"There is a place called Blackthorn Row."
Ivelle repeated the name silently, fixing it in her memory.
"Where is it?"
"Beyond the eastern district."
"How do I get there?"
The attendant hesitated.
Then he looked at her clothes.
His gaze lingered on the mud-stained dress and worn fabric.
"You cannot go there looking like that."
Ivelle frowned.
"Why?"
"Because you will immediately attract attention."
"I don’t understand."
"If the rumors are true, that place is not an ordinary market. People go there with money. They go there looking for servants, workers..." He hesitated before adding, "people."
A look of disgust crossed Ivelle’s face.
"So I am supposed to pretend to be one of them?"
"If you want to search without being noticed, yes."
She stared at him.
The thought sickened her.
But then she imagined Liriel.
Her friend’s frightened face.
Her voice.
Her stubbornness.
The way she had promised she would meet Ivelle at the Golden Lantern.
Ivelle slowly clenched her hands.
"What do I need to do?"
The attendant studied her before answering.
"Dress like a wealthy woman."
Ivelle’s eyes narrowed.
"Why?"
"Because you need them to believe you are there to purchase someone."
She hated the idea.
Every part of her hated it.
But if it brought her closer to Liriel, she would endure it.
The attendant leaned closer.
"And whatever you do, don’t let them know you’re searching for your friend."
Ivelle’s expression hardened.
"Understood."
She stepped away from the counter.
The morning sun continued shining through the windows of the inn, illuminating the polished floors and making the establishment look almost peaceful.
But Ivelle no longer saw the inn as peaceful.
She saw it as another doorway into the hidden world of the capital.
Yesterday, she had entered the heart of the city searching for work.
Last night, she had run through its darkness to escape three men.
This morning, she had awakened in an unfamiliar room because a mysterious stranger had carried her there.
And now she had been given another task.
Find Blackthorn Row.
Find the slave market.
Find Liriel.
Ivelle looked toward the bright windows.
Her eyes hardened with determination.
If the capital had hidden Liriel somewhere within its darkest corners, then she would enter those corners herself.
Even if she had to disguise herself as the very kind of person she despised.
She would find her friend.
And this time, she would not stop until she did.