Ren followed his gaze. He hadn't thought about it until now, but Anik was right. The boy was beautiful, elegant and long-limbed, hair gleaming in the last of the daylight that shone through the windows. He looked like he belonged in a palace, not a butcher shop. As he came towards them with the tray, Ren noticed something else – above the place where the heavy shackles had rubbed the boy's fine skin red, long, thin, slightly uneven scars travelled halfway up his forearms. Ren glanced at Anik, and judging by the intense fury in his eyes, he had seen it, too.

Putting down the tray, the boy quickly wrapped his arms around himself and made to leave, but Anik reached out and closed a hand around one of his slender wrists. The boy gasped, freezing in Anik's grip. Ren didn't miss the tremor that went through the youth's body, and Anik must have felt it too, for he released his grip.

“What's your name?” Anik asked.

“Ilias, my lord,” the boy said softly, eyes downcast.

“I'm not a lord,” Anik replied, mouth twisting.

“I-I'm sorry.” Ilias' voice was barely a whisper.

Ren looked between the two of them. There was a new look in Anik's eyes. Ren had heard it, too; the slave spoke with a distinct Lowlander accent.

It was the last thing Ren had expected, and it didn't match at all with everything Ren knew about the Lowlanders. They were aggressive, brutish killers with no sense of conscience. This boy was soft and demure.

“What happened to your arms, Ilias?” Anik asked, voice softer than Ren had heard it before.

“He has a weak mind.” Rowland's voice startled all three of them. He leaned against the doorway behind Ilias and stroked the boy's hair before nudging him out of the room with an elbow. “He needs someone to take care of him. Make sure he doesn't hurt himself.”

“Is that why you keep him in shackles?” Anik's voice was dripping with venom. Ren almost expected him to draw his sword again when an amused smile tugged on Rowland's lips, but Anik stayed where he was.

The door to the shop opened, a chiming bell announcing the arrival of customers, and Rowland left them alone.

“I'm not staying here,” Anik said, draining his cup of water before putting it down too hard on the table. Standing, he strode over to the window.

“Well, you'll have to,” Ren sighed. What Ilias lacked in Lowlander stereotypes, Anik was certainly embodying.

“If I have to spend one more moment listening to that piece of-”

“The streets are crawling with guards. They'll be on the lookout for us all day,” Ren reminded him. “There's no way we can fetch the horses and ride out of here without risking an arrow in the back. We have to wait until it gets dark.”