Elara’s smile slowly disappeared from her face.
For a brief moment, the young maid simply stood where she was, her fingers tightening slightly around one another as she looked at Ivelle, and the uncertainty that entered her expression was so immediate that Ivelle knew she had not asked an ordinary question. There was something about the way Elara’s eyes shifted, something almost cautious in the way she seemed to consider her answer before giving it, that made Ivelle’s curiosity stronger rather than disappear.
Ivelle remained standing near the mirror, her arms folded loosely across her chest as she watched the younger girl. She had spent the better part of the afternoon receiving strange answers from the people inside this mansion. Maris had looked at her with pity and refused to explain why. Elara had accidentally revealed that the dresses inside her wardrobe had already been there before she arrived, only to become quiet the moment Ivelle questioned her about it.
And now, when she had asked for the truth, the girl looked as though she had suddenly been handed something dangerous.
That could not possibly be a good sign.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Ivelle asked at last, tilting her head slightly as she studied Elara’s face.
Elara immediately lowered her eyes.
"I am not looking at you in any particular way, Lady Ivelle."
Ivelle’s brows slowly rose.
There it was again.
Another person inside this house pretending that she could not see what was directly in front of her.
"That is exactly what someone says when they are looking at someone in a particular way," Ivelle replied, her voice carrying a faint note of suspicion.
Elara’s lips parted slightly, though no words came out.
Ivelle stared at her while Elara stared at the floor.
The silence stretched between them.
Finally, Ivelle sighed.
"All right," she said, uncrossing her arms and turning away from the mirror. "Perhaps I should explain what I mean before you start looking as though I have asked you to confess to murdering someone."
The young maid’s eyes immediately lifted.
"I would never—"
"I know," Ivelle interrupted quickly. "That was not an accusation."
Elara closed her mouth.
Ivelle turned fully toward her and walked slowly across the room, careful with her injured leg. Although the physician’s treatment had reduced some of the pain, she could still feel the weakness in her leg whenever she moved too quickly, and she hated the fact that nearly everyone around her seemed to notice it before she could pretend otherwise.
She stopped a short distance from Elara.
"I simply want to understand something."
The maid remained quiet.
Ivelle took a breath.
Then she asked the question that had been moving through her mind since the moment Zelos Mortum had carried her away from Blackthorn Row.
"What exactly does Lord Zelos do here?"
Elara blinked.
Ivelle watched her carefully.
The girl’s expression remained uncertain.
"Here?" Elara repeated.
"Yes, here."
Ivelle gestured vaguely around the enormous room.
"In this mansion. With all of this."
She paused before her eyes narrowed slightly.
"And with all the women."
Elara froze.
Ivelle noticed immediately.
There.
That reaction.
Her heartbeat changed.
She had touched something.
The young maid’s face lost what little color it had possessed only moments before, and her hands tightened together in front of her as though she suddenly did not know what to do with them.
Ivelle’s suspicion immediately deepened.
"Women?" Elara repeated quietly.
"Yes," Ivelle said slowly. "Women."
She took another careful step closer.
"Does Lord Zelos often bring women here?"
Elara’s eyes widened.
"Lady Ivelle—"
"Or perhaps I should ask differently."
Ivelle’s thoughts had already begun racing ahead of her, moving through every possibility she had imagined inside the carriage.
"Does he buy women?"
Elara’s breathing seemed to pause.
Ivelle stared at her.
The silence that followed was different from the other silences she had experienced that day.
This one was heavy.
Fearful.
And that frightened her more than any answer could have.
"Elara," Ivelle said quietly.
The young maid immediately shook her head.
"I’m sorry."
Ivelle frowned.
"What?"
"I cannot say anything about Lord Zelos."
The answer came quickly, almost desperately.
Ivelle’s brows drew together.
"You cannot say anything?"
Elara lowered her head.
"I do not know anything."
Ivelle stared at her.
The girl knew something.
Perhaps not everything.
Perhaps not enough to answer whatever questions Ivelle wanted to ask.
But she knew something.
It was written all over her face.
"You do know something," Ivelle said.
"I don’t."
"Elara."
"I am sorry, Lady Ivelle."
The fear in the maid’s voice made Ivelle stop.
For several seconds, she simply looked at her.
Elara was younger than her, that much was obvious. There was still something youthful in her face despite the uniform she wore and the responsibilities she apparently carried within the household. She had entered the room smiling. She had helped prepare Ivelle’s bath. She had spoken warmly to her.
But now she looked frightened.
Not irritated.
Not offended.
Frightened.
And Ivelle suddenly understood that continuing to press her would accomplish nothing.
Perhaps worse, it might place Elara in trouble.
Ivelle did not know Zelos.
She did not know the rules of his house.
She did not know what happened when someone inside this mansion disobeyed him.
The thought made her stomach tighten.
She had already seen enough at Blackthorn Row to understand that powerful men often created rules for other people to follow while they themselves remained untouched by the consequences.
Was Zelos the same?
She looked toward Elara again.
The maid was still waiting.
Still nervous.
Ivelle slowly released the breath she had been holding.
"All right."
Elara looked up.
"I will not ask you again."
The younger girl’s shoulders relaxed slightly.
Ivelle immediately felt guilty.
She had not intended to frighten her.
Her questions were not Elara’s fault.
None of this was Elara’s fault.
Ivelle gave her a faint smile.
"You can go outside."
Elara hesitated.
"But Lady Maris instructed me to remain available if you needed anything."
"I know."
Ivelle moved toward the bed and carefully sat down.
"Then remain outside."
The maid nodded.
"Yes, Lady Ivelle."
Ivelle watched her walk toward the door.
Just before Elara stepped outside, she glanced back once, and something about that brief look made Ivelle’s curiosity return.
The girl wanted to say something.
She could see it.
But whatever words Elara had nearly spoken remained trapped behind her silence.
Then she disappeared through the door.
Ivelle was alone again.
The room seemed much larger when there was nobody else inside it.
She leaned backward against the soft bed and stared toward the ceiling, allowing her thoughts to move freely now that there was no one nearby to witness the increasingly ridiculous directions in which they traveled.
Zelos Mortum.
What exactly was he?
That was the question she could not escape.
She knew almost nothing about him.
She knew that people inside Blackthorn Row feared him.
She knew that Corvin had immediately changed his behavior when Zelos appeared.
She knew that Zelos had purchased her freedom—or at least that was what he had told her.
She knew that he had taken her to a physician.
She knew that he had carried her when she could barely walk.
And now she knew that the servants inside his own home seemed terrified of saying too much about him.
None of that helped.
Not even slightly.
Ivelle slowly covered her face with both hands.
"Wonderful," she muttered beneath her palms.
Her life had become wonderful.
Absolutely wonderful.
She had come to the capital hoping that she and Liriel would somehow find a better life.
Instead, Liriel had disappeared.
Ivelle had entered a slave establishment.
She had nearly become trapped there herself.
And now she was sitting inside the bedroom of a mysterious man whose servants apparently considered discussing him to be a dangerous activity.
She lowered her hands.
Perhaps she should leave.
The thought came so naturally that she immediately sat upright.
Yes.
She should leave.
Why was she even considering staying?
She did not know this man.
She owed him nothing.
Well—
Her thoughts paused.
He had saved her.
Ivelle frowned.
That complicated things, he had helped her and that she could not deny.
If Zelos had not appeared when he did, she did not know what would have happened to her inside Blackthorn Row. Perhaps she would have escaped.
Perhaps she would have been captured.
Perhaps she would have discovered something about Liriel.
Or perhaps she would have become another person locked inside one of those cages.
Her fingers slowly tightened against the bedsheet.
No.
She could not ignore what Zelos had done for her.
But that did not mean she understood him.
And it certainly did not mean she should blindly trust him.
Ivelle turned her head toward the window.
The sun had begun descending lower in the sky, and the warm afternoon light that had filled the room earlier was gradually changing into something softer. Shadows stretched across the gardens below, and the enormous walls surrounding the estate appeared darker from where she sat.
Escape.