“They’re both lovely,” Amaris remarked flatly of the girls who’d been taken before her.

“Oh yes, they are,” Millicent agreed. Nothing about her voice was kind. She had a bored tone, sinking her weight into one hip as she looked off into the distance. “They have the common, virginal beauty that fetches a high enough price on their first night, and then the steadfast price of a workhorse from then on. But you, Amaris, are no workhorse. The life that awaits you is quite spectacular indeed. The matrons tell me your name means ‘gift from the goddess.’ Believe me when I tell you that you will be marketed as such. You are a treasure. You can have a very pleasant life if you allow us to work as a team, dear. I’d like that very much.”

Millicent took another step toward her. The clack of the Madame’s heels on the stones mingled with the commotion of the matrons coming down the stairs with the stranger. The man’s footsteps were heavy enough to indicate he had redressed in his armor, intent on departure. Amaris dared to take her eyes off the Madame long enough to glance behind her, peering beyond the dining room into the foyer. She saw the matrons clucking after the stranger like chickens after a fox in their henhouse. The man looked unbothered by their pecking as he sauntered after his horse. He was no longer clutching his stomach. Amaris hadn’t been able to catch more in the brief moments her eyes grazed the stranger. Perhaps his wounds had been shallow enough that the nurse was able to stop the bleeding with bandages, if not by the manor’s limited supply of tonics. It would doubtlessly be another scar to add to his collection.

Once the stranger and the matrons left her line of sight, Amaris was wholly alone with the Madame. Millicent made another move toward her.

“I’m rather eager to get on the road, if you don’t mind.”

“Stop,” Amaris cautioned, and Millicent stilled in her steps.

She had nothing. She had no one. She had… That was it. A vision of the scarred assassin popped into her mind, striking her with inspiration. Amaris reached into her shirt and wrapped her hand around the hilt of the small dagger Nox had handed her only fifteen minutes prior.

The Madame let out a sharp, dark laugh, shaking her golden curls slightly to emphasize her surprised delight. Her black lips peeled back into a predatory smile, teeth glinting in the early morning light.

“You mean to hurt me, girl? Oh my, I wish you would try.”

As the Madame began to peel off her gloves, Amaris shook her head. Her voice was stronger than she’d ever heard it before as she spoke her resolution.

“No,” and her words did not waiver as she finished, “I mean to hurt me.”