There was something about the way the man had spoken the name that told her this was not merely another wealthy visitor. The respect in his voice had been too deliberate, his bow too deep, and the cautious expression that had crossed his face suggested that Lord Zelos Mortum was a man whose displeasure was best avoided.
Zelos, however, appeared entirely unaffected.
He merely regarded the man before him with the same unreadable expression he had worn since stepping out of the carriage, his black eyes quiet and cold beneath the morning light.
"Where is the director?" Zelos asked.
His voice was low, carrying just enough authority to make the other man straighten immediately.
"He is expecting you, my lord," the man replied. "If you would follow me, I shall take you to him."
Zelos gave a slight nod.
"Lead the way."
The man bowed again before turning around.
"My name is Corvin, my lord," he said as he began walking. "I oversee the operations of Blackthorn Row. If there is anything you require while you are here, you need only tell me."
Zelos said nothing.
He simply followed.
Ivelle followed too.
Unfortunately, with every step she took, the confidence she had managed to build at the entrance began disappearing.
She had expected to enter Blackthorn Row.
She had not expected to be led through it.
Her eyes moved constantly from one side of the corridor to another as Corvin led them deeper into the building. They passed several offices, each occupied by people who appeared to be conducting ordinary business. Clerks sat behind desks, servants carried documents, and men in expensive clothing moved through the corridors with the casual confidence of people who knew exactly where they were going.
Yet Corvin ignored every one of those doors.
He continued forward.
Ivelle’s brows slowly drew together beneath the cap.
Where are we going?
She glanced at the door they had just passed, then at another farther ahead.
Nothing.
Another corridor.
Another door.
Still nothing.
Her suspicion began to grow.
If Zelos was here for some ordinary business, why were they walking past all the offices?
She looked at Zelos.
The man appeared completely unconcerned.
His hands rested loosely at his sides as he walked, his expression revealing absolutely nothing.
Ivelle narrowed her eyes.
Perhaps he knows where he is going.
Then another thought struck her.
Of course he knew.
He was Lord Zelos Mortum.
Everyone here seemed to know him.
Everyone except her.
And that realization made her nervous.
Corvin eventually stopped before a large wooden door positioned at the end of a quieter corridor. Unlike the other doors, this one had no sign, no nameplate, and no visible indication of what lay beyond it.
Ivelle’s stomach tightened.
Corvin reached for the handle.
The door opened with a slow creak.
Darkness waited on the other side.
Ivelle stopped walking.
Her heart gave a nervous thud.
There was no office beyond the door.
No desk.
No workers.
No windows allowing sunlight into the room.
Instead, a narrow staircase disappeared downward into darkness.
Ivelle stared.
Her fingers tightened around the edge of her uniform.
Where are they taking us?
Corvin stepped onto the first stair.
Zelos followed without hesitation.
Ivelle remained at the entrance for half a heartbeat longer before forcing herself forward.
She could not stop now.
If she hesitated, someone might notice.
So she descended.
The further they went, the colder the air became. The sounds of the building above slowly disappeared behind them until the only things Ivelle could hear were the measured footsteps of the men ahead and the faint sound of her own breathing.
The staircase seemed endless.
Ivelle swallowed nervously.
She had entered Blackthorn Row looking for Liriel, but every step downward made her feel as though she were moving farther away from the world she understood.
What if Edmund had been right?
What if this really was where they kept the people who had disappeared?
She tried to convince herself that she was imagining things.
Perhaps there was another explanation.
Perhaps this was simply a storage area.
Perhaps—
The thought died when they reached the bottom.
A heavy door stood before them.
Corvin opened it.
The smell that emerged made Ivelle’s stomach turn.
Damp stone.
Metal.
Sweat.
Fear.
Her eyes widened.
She stepped inside behind the others.
At first, she could barely see.
The underground chamber was dimly illuminated by iron lamps fixed against the walls, their weak flames casting trembling shadows across the stone floor. Long rows of iron-barred cells stretched into the darkness, disappearing beneath the low ceiling.
And inside them were people.
Women.
Men.
Some sat silently against the walls, their faces pale and exhausted, while others stood behind the bars with expressions of suspicion, fear, or complete resignation. A few clung to the iron bars as though hoping that anyone who passed might notice them.
Ivelle stopped breathing.
Her eyes moved from one cage to another.
This was real.
The slave market was real.
The respectable building above had been nothing more than a carefully constructed mask.
Her chest tightened painfully.
So many people.
So many lives reduced to iron cages beneath a building where wealthy men walked freely beneath the sunlight.
Her gaze moved desperately from face to face.
Liriel.
Where are you?
She looked again.
A woman with dark hair.
Not Liriel.
A young man with a bruised cheek.
Not Liriel.
Another woman sitting in the corner.
Not her.
Ivelle’s heart sank with every passing face.
Corvin turned toward them.
"These are the newest arrivals," he explained, spreading one hand toward the rows of cells. "They came in over the last few days."
Ivelle felt sick.
He spoke about them as though he were discussing merchandise.
Zelos remained silent.
His black eyes traveled across the cages with an expression that gave away nothing.
Corvin smiled politely.
"You may select anyone you wish, my lord. The records are available if you require information about their age, background, or condition."
Ivelle’s stomach twisted.
Select.
As though they were choosing furniture.
As though the people behind those bars were objects.
She lowered her head, forcing herself to maintain the appearance of a guard, but her fingers had curled tightly into fists beneath her sleeves.
Zelos gave a small nod.
"Very well."
Corvin stepped aside.
Zelos began walking.
Ivelle followed him.
She did not care about the purpose of his visit.
She did not care whether he intended to purchase someone.
She only needed to find Liriel.
Her eyes moved constantly as they passed each cell.
She studied every face.
Every woman.
Every figure sitting in the shadows.
Her heart jumped whenever brown hair caught her attention, only to sink when the face belonged to someone else.
Not Liriel.
They continued.
The first row.
Nothing.
The second row.
Still nothing.
Ivelle’s desperation grew with every step.
Please.
She silently pleaded with whatever gods might still be listening.
Let her be here.
Let me find her.
Zelos stopped at one cell.
Ivelle immediately stopped behind him.
Inside, a young woman sat with her knees drawn against her chest. Her dress was torn, and there was a bruise along the side of her face.
Ivelle’s heart clenched.
She wanted to help her.
She wanted to tear the cage apart.
But she could not.
Not yet.
Zelos moved on and Ivelle followed, and then they reached the third row.
Two more cells remained and her pulse began racing.
She looked toward the first, a group of three people occupied it but none of them were Liriel.
She turned toward the final cell.
Her eyes searched through the darkness.
Then—
A sudden commotion erupted somewhere behind them.
Several voices shouted at once.
Footsteps thundered across the stone floor.
Ivelle spun around.
"What is happening?" Corvin demanded, his composure breaking for the first time.
A young guard came running down the corridor, his breathing ragged and his face pale with panic.
"Sir!"
Corvin stepped toward him.
"What happened?"
The guard bent forward, struggling to catch his breath.
"There has been a break-in."
The words struck Ivelle like ice water.
Her entire body went cold.
A break-in.
Her mind immediately returned to the guard she had knocked unconscious.
The stolen uniform.
The entrance.
The body she had left behind.
Her heart began pounding so violently that she feared everyone around her would hear it.
Corvin’s expression darkened.
"Where?"
"The entrance," the guard replied breathlessly. "One of the men discovered an unconscious guard near the outer passage. Someone broke into the perimeter."
Corvin’s eyes narrowed.
"How long ago?"
"Not long, sir."
Ivelle felt the blood drain from her face but she forced herself to remain still.
Do not panic.
Do not look suspicious.
Do not move.
But beneath the cap, sweat gathered against her forehead.
Zelos had turned slightly, his black eyes now rested upon her.
For one terrible moment, Ivelle wondered whether he knew.
Whether he had already understood that the guard standing beside him was not a guard at all.
His expression remained unreadable and then his gaze shifted toward the commotion.
Ivelle quietly released the breath trapped inside her lungs.
But her relief lasted only a moment.
Because Corvin suddenly looked toward the guards surrounding the cells.
"Seal the exits," he ordered sharply. "Nobody leaves Blackthorn Row until we find out who broke in."
The guards immediately moved.
Iron gates began closing in the distance.
Ivelle’s stomach dropped.
She was trapped inside a slave establishment wearing a stolen uniform with h an unconscious guard somewhere outside.
And now every exit was being sealed.
She slowly looked toward Zelos but his black eyes were already on her.
This time, there was no amusement in them.
Only a quiet, unreadable interest.
And Ivelle suddenly wondered whether she had made the worst mistake of her life by following him underground.
Corvin’s expression hardened as the commotion continued somewhere beyond the underground corridor, the distant voices growing louder as more guards hurried toward the entrance. He looked toward the passage with visible irritation before turning back to Zelos.
"My lord, I should go and see what has happened," he said, lowering his head respectfully. "It would be best if I handled the matter personally."
Zelos regarded him for a moment, his face remaining as calm as ever despite the disturbance surrounding them. He then gave a slight nod.
"Go."
Corvin hesitated.
"My lord?"
"Find out who broke in," Zelos said, his voice quiet but firm. "And make certain the situation is dealt with."
"Yes, my lord."
Corvin bowed deeply before turning toward the corridor. He hurried away, his footsteps gradually disappearing beneath the echoing noise of the underground passage.
The moment he was gone, silence settled between Zelos and Ivelle.
For the first time since entering the underground chamber, there was no one standing close enough to overhear them.
Ivelle remained perfectly still.
She did not dare breathe too loudly.
Zelos, however, seemed almost amused by her discomfort.
He turned his head slowly and looked at her. "Are we going to continue playing dress-up?"