Ivelle’s lips pressed together.
There was something incredibly irritating about the way Zelos spoke. He did not raise his voice. He did not explain himself. He simply said something as though the world had already agreed that it would happen.
And somehow, people listened.
Even her.
The physician finished arranging the bandage before standing upright.
"She should avoid putting unnecessary pressure on it for the next several days," he explained while directing his words toward Zelos rather than her, which immediately irritated Ivelle because she was sitting right there. "The medicine will reduce the swelling, but if she continues running around the capital and climbing into dangerous places, she will worsen the injury."
Ivelle looked at him.
"I did not climb into dangerous places."
Zelos’s gaze moved toward her.
Ivelle slowly corrected herself.
"Recently."
The physician gave her a long look.
She looked away.
Zelos finally turned toward the entrance.
"We are leaving."
Ivelle nodded and carefully pushed herself from the seat.
The moment her injured leg touched the ground, however, she immediately regretted pretending that everything was fine. Although the treatment had helped, the leg still felt weak, and pain traveled upward when she attempted to place her full weight upon it.
She managed one step.
Then another.
On the third, her balance shifted.
Before she could fall, a hand caught her.
Ivelle froze.
Zelos was beside her.
She slowly lifted her eyes.
The man’s expression remained unchanged.
"I can walk," she said immediately.
"You nearly fell."
"I did not."
His gaze lowered toward her injured leg.
Ivelle followed his eyes.
She had nearly fallen.
Unfortunately.
Still, she refused to admit it.
"I was adjusting myself."
Zelos stared at her.
Ivelle stared back.
The physician made a sound that was unmistakably amusement.
Her face warmed.
Zelos released her arm.
Then, without warning, he bent slightly and lifted her from the ground.
Ivelle’s entire body stiffened.
For several seconds, her mind stopped functioning.
She had expected many things from Zelos Mortum.
Being carried by him had not been one of them.
Her arms instinctively moved around his shoulders before she could stop herself, and the moment she realized what she had done, her eyes widened.
Oh no.
Oh, gods.
What was happening?
Ivelle stared at Zelos’s face.
He was carrying her.
Actually carrying her.
As though she weighed nothing.
Her heartbeat suddenly began racing for an entirely different reason.
No man had ever carried her like this before.
She did not know where to look.
She did not know where to put her hands.
She did not know whether she was supposed to say something.
Should she thank him?
Would that make the situation stranger?
Should she tell him to put her down?
But what if he actually did?
Her leg hurt.
Perhaps she should remain quiet.
Yes.
Remaining quiet was safer.
Unfortunately, Ivelle had never been particularly good at remaining quiet.
"Lord Zelos?"
"Hmm."
"Why are you carrying me?"
"You cannot walk."
"I can walk."
"You nearly fell."
Ivelle pressed her lips together.
There it was again.
That irritating answer.
She decided not to respond.
Zelos carried her through the physician’s establishment while the physician watched them leave with an expression that Ivelle refused to examine closely because she did not want to know what the man was thinking. Her face remained warm throughout the journey to the entrance, and the moment they stepped outside, she became painfully aware of the fact that there were people on the street.
People looking, perhaps.
She did not actually know whether anyone was looking, but that did not prevent her from imagining that everyone was looking.
Her eyes moved nervously across the street.
Was that woman staring?
No.
Perhaps she was simply looking in this direction.
That man?
Definitely staring.
Or perhaps he was looking at the carriage.
Ivelle decided that she was being ridiculous.
Then she remembered that she was being carried by one of the most intimidating men she had ever met.
Perhaps she was not being ridiculous.
Zelos approached the carriage and opened the door before carefully placing her inside.
Ivelle immediately moved toward the seat, attempting to behave as though nothing unusual had happened.
Zelos entered after her.
The door closed.
For several moments, neither of them spoke.
Ivelle looked toward the window.
Zelos looked ahead.
The carriage began moving.
That was when the thoughts began.
Where was he taking her?
She knew he had said she was going with him, but that had been inside Blackthorn Row, when guards had been approaching and she had been one decision away from becoming a prisoner. She had agreed because she wanted to survive.
She had not actually asked where she would be taken.
What kind of person agreed to go with someone without knowing where they lived?
A stupid person.
Ivelle immediately frowned.
She was not stupid.
She had successfully entered Blackthorn Row.
Yes, she had nearly been caught.
She had knocked out a guard.
Yes, she had also been discovered by Zelos almost immediately.
She had found the underground slave establishment.
And then failed to find Liriel.
Her thoughts became quieter.
Guilt settled inside her chest.
Liriel.
Ivelle turned toward the window.
Where are you?
She had searched every face she could find.
She had looked through every cage but her friend had not been there.
That could mean Liriel was somewhere else.
Or it could mean something far worse.
Ivelle’s fingers slowly tightened in her lap.
No.
She refused to think about that.
Liriel was alive.
She had to be.
Zelos suddenly spoke.
"You are thinking again."
Ivelle immediately looked toward him.
"How do you know?"
"You become quiet."
She frowned.
"That is how you know?"
"Yes."
Ivelle stared at him.
That did not seem like enough information to know what someone was doing.
Then again, Zelos had apparently known she was injured without her telling him.
He had known she was a woman beneath the guard’s uniform.
He had somehow known enough to take her directly to a physician.
Perhaps he noticed everything.
That thought immediately made her uncomfortable.
Had he noticed every stupid thing she had done?
Had he watched her nearly walk into a wall because she had been looking at him?
She looked away.
She desperately hoped he had not.
The carriage continued through the capital, carrying them farther away from Blackthorn Row, and although Ivelle knew she should have felt relieved, her nervousness only continued growing.
Zelos had purchased her.
Not truly, perhaps.
But he had told everyone that he had.
What happened now?
Would she live in his mansion?
Would there be other women there?
That thought immediately returned.
Other women.
The ones she had imagined during the journey to the physician.
How many women had Zelos bought?
Perhaps he had never bought anyone.
But then why had he been inside Blackthorn Row?
Why had Corvin offered him the opportunity to choose someone so easily?
Ivelle glanced toward him.
Zelos’s face remained completely calm.
That was the problem.
He always looked calm.
A murderer could look calm.
A perfectly innocent person could also look calm.
A man who secretly kept women locked in his mansion could definitely look calm.
Ivelle’s eyes widened slightly.
What if his mansion was simply another Blackthorn Row?
What if the beautiful carriage was only the beginning?
What if she had escaped one slave establishment only to willingly enter another?
Her heartbeat quickened.
She immediately looked toward the carriage door.
Could she jump out?
No.
Her leg was injured.
Could she run?
Also no.
Could she scream?
Probably.
But Zelos was sitting directly across from her.
Ivelle slowly looked at him.
His black eyes were already on her.
She froze.
"Why are you looking at the door?"
Her face immediately changed.
"I was not looking at the door."
"You were."
"I was looking outside."
"The door is beside you."
Ivelle pressed her lips together.
There was absolutely no way to argue with that.
Zelos leaned back slightly.
"You are afraid again."
"I am not."
His gaze remained on her.
Ivelle sighed.
"Perhaps a little."
"Why?"
She hesitated.
Because I do not know what kind of man you are.
Because you purchased me.
Because you carried me.
Because you know things I never told you.
Because you barely speak, and somehow that is more frightening than someone who does.
Instead, she looked away.
"I am wondering where you are taking me."
Zelos’s answer came immediately.
"My residence."
Ivelle slowly turned toward him.
His residence.
His mansion.
Her thoughts immediately became worse.
Of course.
She was going to his mansion.
A place she had never seen.
A place where she knew no one.
With a man she had met that morning.
Perfect.
Absolutely perfect.
Perhaps she should have remained in Blackthorn Row.
No.
Definitely not.
But the thought still showed how terrified she had become.
She stared at him, then turned toward the window.
There was no use speaking to him.
Everything she said somehow became evidence against her.
The carriage continued moving through the capital, and eventually the crowded streets began changing. The buildings became larger. The roads became quieter. Expensive estates appeared behind tall gates, their gardens carefully maintained and their entrances guarded.
Ivelle’s nervousness grew.
This was clearly not an ordinary part of the capital.
Zelos lived somewhere wealthy.
Of course he did.
She already knew that.
But seeing it made the difference between them suddenly feel far more real.
She looked down at her plain dress.
Then toward the elegant interior of the carriage.
Then at Zelos.
Her fingers slowly curled.
What was she doing here?
The carriage continued forward.
Far away from them, beneath a darkness untouched by the warmth of the afternoon sun, another young woman slowly opened her eyes.
Liriel did not immediately understand where she was.
Her head felt heavy, and her vision remained blurred as she stared upward at an unfamiliar ceiling. The room around her was dark, illuminated only by a weak flame burning somewhere near the wall, and for several moments she remained completely still while fragments of memory slowly returned to her.
How she had entered a carriage that was supposed to take her to her workplace.
IVELLE!
Her breathing suddenly changed.
She attempted to sit upright, but the movement caused something cold to pull against her leg.
Liriel froze.
Her eyes lowered.
A thick iron chain had been fastened around her ankle.
The other end was secured to the leg of the narrow bed beneath her.
Fear slowly entered her eyes.
She pulled once.
The chain rattled.
It did not move.
Liriel’s heartbeat began accelerating as she looked around the dark room, searching desperately for a door, a window, or any possible way to escape.
There was nothing.
Only stone walls.
A locked door and darkness.
She swallowed hard as the terrifying realization finally settled inside her.
Ivelle had been looking for her.
But while her friend searched desperately through Blackthorn Row, Liriel had been somewhere else entirely.
Alone.
Trapped.
And chained to a bed in a room where no one could hear her scream.