Despite my protests, Marlene insisted our lunch was on the house. I left enough tucked under the pot of lavender to cover the meal anyway.

  As we were leaving, she stopped us long enough to give me a motherly hug and press a box of her fantastic cakelets into my arms. Cael wouldn’t stop laughing as I packed them in my saddlebag with all the care I’d show the Crown Jewels.

  We turned off King’s Road, leaving Artisan’s Row behind, and headed into a sleepy, working-class residential area that stretched along the city’s outer wall. Small row houses and cramped apartments lined the road, stacked above the occasional takeaway or local shop.

  I pulled the hood of my fur cloak up and tucked my gloved hands deeper beneath the heavy fur. Dark clouds had rolled in, and I could smell snow on the blustery wind.

  Before we’d left, Cael had pulled my last fever potion out of my bag. “We’ll see the damned elf,” he’d told me as he dropped it into my hands, “but you’re taking this. You’re all shiny and shit.”

  I was grateful he’d insisted — the cold wind on my forehead felt a little too nice.

  A tall spire slowly rose above the ramshackle roofs, and we soon found ourselves in a small square surrounding the old, converted cathedral that housed the Lady Beth Free Hospital. There was no convenient public stable nearby, so we left our horses tied up at the small covered manger in the hospital’s front courtyard.

  I asked Cecil to stay behind to watch over the animals. Sam was far too intimidating to be left alone.

  The staff at the front reception were surprised to see me, but eager to help. Locke had sent word, as promised — they just hadn’t expected me so soon.

  “The Elven gentleman is in the protected ward,” the middle-aged healer escorting us explained. “The entire fourth floor is restricted. The Watch has a small garrison stationed here, along with a guarded ward for patients under their custody. Honestly, it’s a touch cramped — all the offices are on that floor as well. We’d planned to renovate the attics to make more room and add a long-term care ward, but we have bats.

  “No idea how the little buggers keep getting in.” She knocked on a heavy door, and sighed. “Parsnip. Blocked off every crack we can find, but they’re always there.”

  “That’s terri —“ I blinked. There was the loud thunk of bolts being thrown on the other side. “Did… you just say ‘parsnip?’”

  The door swung open slowly to reveal a half-dozen Watchmen crouched behind a small barricade, slowly lowering the crossbows that had been levelled at head height in my direction moments before.

  “A duress word.” She gently pushed past me as I stood there, willing my heart rate back down to normal. “The word changes every day. I suspect poor Commander Preston is running out of ideas; yesterday’s codeword was hatstand.”

  “What…” Cael swallowed. “What happens if you don’t say it?”

  “Then these ladies and gentlemen are authorized to open fire, and I spend the rest of my day doing an ungodly amount of paperwork,” she informed him primly. “This is a secured area, young man. Your Elven gentleman may only be in Watch care, but that’s no excuse for slack security. Please follow me, Earl Dusk.”

  She led through the squadroom toward a door on the far side. The way the furniture was placed and the crossbows and swords concealed behind each desk made it clear that this room was intended to hold off a siege if necessary.

  Stepping through the far door, I found myself in a small, high-arched hallway lined with small open-doored cells, three a side.

  I glanced into the nearest one. A bed lined each side, with a single chair between them. A half-dressed Watchman was asleep in one of them.

  “The Elven gentleman’s in the last room on the left. He’s our only guest,” our guide told me quietly. She turned, her hand on the guardroom door. “I’ll leave you to speak with him.”

  “Wait.” I stopped her. “Please. How is he doing?”

  Her face fell. “He’s… recovering.” She glanced over her shoulder at the last doorway, her eyes sympathetic. “Repeated severe beatings. More cuts and contusions than I care to count. Broken bones in various stages of healing. Beyond that, he appears to have been repeatedly assaulted.”

  Hells. I wished I had guessed wrong.

  “Thank you.”

  She nodded. “Of course. Please let me know if there is anything else you need, Earl Dusk.” Our guide curtsied briefly and left. Sam quickly checked all the doors, and gave me a satisfied nod before following her out. Apparently she was satisfied no one was going to abduct me through the narrow casement windows.

  I walked to the last archway, and stopped just outside it, trying to calm my roiling stomach.

  Facing a victim hurt, even if all that was left was an autopsy report and a case number. Facing a live victim who was still hurting … it always felt like a knife through the heart.

  Facing one as an emotionally volatile seventeen-year-old…

  But I had to.

  Steeling myself, I took a deep breath and stepped inside.

  The elf was curled up on the bed, with his knees drawn up to his chest and his back tucked into the far corner. He’d stripped the second bed of its blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders like a cloak he could hide beneath. As I entered, his wide, jade-green eyes shot to me, and he shrunk further beneath the blanket.

  I moved slowly, trying not to startle him as l laid my heavy cloak on the second bed. “Hello,” I said softly. “We met a few days ago. Do you remember me?”

  His eyes flickered down to my hands, where the bandages wrapped around my wrists peeked out from my sleeves. The edges of my fading bruises were just visible beneath them.

  He blinked, nodding slowly as confusion overtook the fear in his eyes. He was still tense, but he didn’t startle as I pulled the small chair closer and sat down.

  Cael chuckled gently from where he leaned against the archway. “It’s the outfit, isn’t it? Don’t let him fool you, just ‘cause he’s all fancy now. He’s still a godsdamned idiot.”

  “I beg your pardon.” I scoffed. “I may be an idiot, but I’m always well dressed.”

  “Like hells, Princess. Your crazy-ass maid stuffed you into that shit. You’re just too afraid of her to argue.”

  “Hmpf. I’ll remind you that’s her job.”

  He scoffed, grinning. “When we hauled your fainting ass home, she threatened me with a godsdamned cleaver. I meet that lady in an alley, and I’m fucking running.”

  ”… Fine.” I let out an exaggerated sigh. “Louise is terrifying, and I’ll wear whatever she tells me to.”

  Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  The elf huffed, a slight smile twitching at the corner of his lips.

  I breathed a silent thanks.

  “My name is Violet Briar Dusk,” I introduced myself with a soft smile, keeping my tone light and joking. Cael had given me an in, and I wasn’t going to waste it. “I’m the fabulous third son of House Dusk, and as of yesterday, the earl of someplace I’ve never heard of. The idiot at the door is Cael Mattis, my retainer. What’s yours?”

  He opened his mouth to reply.

  Nothing came out.

  The tiny flicker of amusement in his eyes dimmed. He drew his arms tighter around himself, hiding his face against his knees.

  A cold certainty crystallized in my gut.

  “I was asked to come talk to you, because you hadn’t spoken to anyone. But it’s not because you don’t want to, is it?” I asked quietly. “It’s because you can’t.”

  He stiffened and a shudder rolled across his tight shoulders.

  “Can you please bring me some paper and a pen?” I asked Cael over my shoulder.

  He nodded and vanished from the doorway.

  One of the elf’s hands slowly unwound from around his legs, and crept across the mattress towards me. I gently placed my hand beside it, careful not to disturb his bandages.

  His trembling fingers curled around mine.

  “They hurt you, didn’t they,” I guessed, my heart aching, “if you said anything or made a sound. And now, nothing comes out, no matter how hard you try.”

  The grip on my fingers tightened.

  “… Bastards,” I spat. A clean death was too good for them.

  It took Cael less than a minute to return. He raised an eyebrow at our intertwined fingers, but I shook my head.

  “Sorry Princess,” he said, handing me a small pile of scrap paper and a stubby pencil. “Best I could do.”

  “This will do nicely. Thank you.”

  I held them out to the elf with an encouraging smile. He slowly took them and, with a hesitant glance at me, he scribbled something on the top scrap of paper and handed it to me.

  “Edrin,” I read. “Your name is Edrin?”

  Nod.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Edrin.”

  A small smile.

  Cael groaned from where he was holding up the archway. “Really? No one thought of that earlier?”

  “People in a hurry will overlook the most obvious things. Edrin, are you willing to tell me what happened to you?”

  Edrin nodded grimly, and began to write.

  I leaned a little closer, struggling to decipher his rushed and clumsy scrawl. “You were… on a tour? Travelling?”

  He nodded, holding up two fingers.

  “You were travelling with someone?”

  Nod.

  “… Ambush. You were ambushed and captured. And your friend?”

  He shook his head sadly.

  “They were killed?”

  Nod.

  “I’m sorry. No one should lose a friend like that. Why were the two of you travelling? Are you a diplomat?”

  He shook his head. He tapped the word ‘tour’ again and scribbled next to it, ‘singer.’

  My heart dropped. “You were on tour, performing.”

  Nod.

  Edrin’s story was long and harrowing, his pain written just as clearly in his face as on the paper. Instead of selling him, the slavers had decided to keep him as a ‘toy’ for their amusement.

  The details left me sick to my stomach. It was a miracle he had survived long enough for anyone to find him.

  When he was done, Edrin slumped, exhaustion etched on his haggard face.

  “Thank you, Edrin, for trusting me. That can’t have been easy. I’ll let you get some rest.”

  I began to stand, but his hand shot out, grabbing my wrist just firmly enough to keep me in place.

  “You… want me to stay?”

  He nodded, his expression pleading.

  “Are you sure?” I asked uncertainly. “You should get some rest.”

  He rolled his eyes.

  “Then we’ll stay.” The report could wait.

  Cael pushed himself off the arch with a sigh. “I’ll let your babysitters know.”

  “Thank you.” I sank back into the chair. “Actually, could you please bring up my cake box while you’re at it?”

  He laughed, and sketched an irreverent little bow. “Sure, Princess. Anything else you need? You want a tea party while we’re at it?”

  “Please.” I replied haughtily with a grin of my own. “Since you were so kind to offer.”

  He barked a laugh, sauntering away.

  I looked forward to seeing what he found.

  ——————

  Cael managed to scrounge up not only a decent pot of tea, but a set of mismatched mugs, napkins, and forks and plates.

  It was late by the time we said our goodbyes. We’d spent the entire afternoon just talking, until our guide returned and insisted it was time to leave. Edrin had made me promise to come back for another visit.

  It had been a very long day; longer than I’d intended.

  I stumbled a little going down the hospital’s steps. Cael caught my elbow and placed a cool hand on my forehead.

  I let my eyes flutter closed. It felt nice.

  “Damn it, Princess. You should’ve said something.”

  “Sorry. But Edrin asked us to stay.”

  “You’re too fucking nice.” He sighed as he helped me mount Giselle. Then he tossed the reins of his own horse to Cecil, climbed up behind me, and took the reins.

  “I can ride!” I protested. I even managed not to tilt while I was at it.

  He wrapped one arm around my waist, holding me steady. “Princess, your girl might be a sweetheart, but I don’t trust you to sit on a damned table. So shut up.”

  The streets were still busy as we made our way back to the Noble Quarter. The wind had died down, and fat flakes drifted gently to earth, muffling Giselle’s footsteps.

  I leaned my head back against Cael’s shoulder and closed my eyes.

  “You still alive, Princess?”

  “I’m fine. I could have managed well enough on my own.”

  Cael laughed quietly. “You lie like shit. Let’s get you home before your maid guts me. That damned cleaver of hers is fucking huge.”

  My eyes shot open. “Wait. I thought that was a joke. To help put Edrin at ease.”

  “Nope. Your staff’s pretty damned protective when it comes to you.”

  I chuckled wryly. “I think they just like this me better.”

  I didn’t blame them either. The thought of me reverting to my old personality must have been horrific.

  Cael grunted, his attention on guiding Giselle around a delivery cart. People ran to and fro across the street, carrying clinking crates while trying their hardest not to slip. Giselle moved steadily beneath us, shifting slightly to counterbalance the movement.

  “How come you’re an Earl’?” Cael asked suddenly.

  “Because his Majesty is a clever bastard with a twisted sense of humour. It’s a threat. ‘If you anger Us, We’ll destroy you and give everything you have to an idiot. And We’ll look good doing it too.’”

  “Not what I meant. Everyone called you ‘Earl Dusk’ right? Why’s your brother not ‘Duke’?”

  I sighed bitterly. “… Short answer? Because my mother is a bitch.”

  “Bit harsh.”

  “You haven’t met her yet. It’s a fair assessment.” I assured him with a snarl of disgust. The whole mess made my blood boil. “Titles are… weird. When Father died, Tempest inherited the estate and lands and council seat, but not the title. That’s a separate thing. My mother should have become the dowager-duchess, but she refused. As long as she’s ‘duchess,’ Tempest can’t be named Duke. Now we’re in this weird situation where he holds all the power, but he can only wield it specifically because of her title.”

  “That’s… what?” He snorted.

  I let out a wry laugh. “Why make it simple when you can stab someone in the back instead? Welcome to the aristocracy. She’ll never leave the House because she’d have to renounce her title, and he can’t simply throw her out – both because it would be an insult to her original House, but also because she outranks him. It would technically be a coup.”

  “That’s dumb. And complicated.”

  “It gets worse. Right now, the whole thing’s an internal House matter. The other Houses can’t step in, and no one dares move against Tempest, just in case. But if he involves other Houses, then there’s a whole network of alliances and debts and grudges that come into play. We suddenly have a not-so-civil war on our hands, and House Dusk gets torn to shreds by anyone who wants a piece of it.”

  I sighed, exhaustion dragging at me. I hadn’t meant to stay with Edrin that long, it had just… happened. “It’s a stalemate. All they can do is stare at each other and play little power games until something comes along and knocks the board over. I’m betting she dies first. That much spite and bitterness can’t be good for your health.”

  He huffed. “Fuck. I’d rather hang out with the sarcastic shit of an elf.”

  I couldn’t help grinning. Even mute, Edrin had a sharp tongue and a cutting sense of humour.

  “Think I’m gonna miss him when he’s gone.” Cael said wistfully.

  “Gone where?”

  “Home,” he gestured out at the city. “Elf country, or wherever it is they go when they’re not being smug assholes.”

  “… He’s not going home.”

  He snorted. “‘Course he is. No way they’re gonna let him keep wandering around after that shit. His family’s probably on their way right now.”

  “No. He can’t go home.”

  Cael’s breath hitched. “Princess?”

  “… Do you know much about the Elven religion?”

  He shrugged. “Same as everyone. Worship the goddess who created ‘em, think they’re perfect.”

  “You’re close, but not quite there. One of my ancestors was a diplomat to the Elven court, and she gained a lot of insight into their culture. Her journals are in the library if you’re curious,” I added. “They don’t just think they’re perfect; they know it. Every elf is created unique and perfect, blessed by Her love.”

  “Okay? So?”

  “If an elf is maimed or scarred, they’re no longer perfect. It’s a sign that She’s abandoned that elf. And Edrin is going to have a lot of scars, physical and otherwise.”

  “Oh. Fuck.” He swallowed. “So no one cares? They’re just gonna leave him?”

  “It’s worse than that. If he went home… I’m not sure what would happen to him. Abandoning him here might be their idea of a kindness.”

  “… That’s fucked up. That why he didn’t want us to leave?”

  “Part of it, maybe? But that’s not my big worry right now.”

  “You think he’s gonna do something stupid,” he said quietly. “Or worse.”

  “… I don’t know.”

  We rode the rest of the way home in uncomfortable silence.