Silver Skeletons: Book 3 The Rose Tree Chronicles

Chapter One: The Glory of Aimonbay Estate

"The Law maintains the sanction, endowed upon it by God, to classify all citizens as Persons or as Slaves, as well as the authority to define the words in question."

The Southern sun pierced through the cave's jagged mouth, its heat pressing against Rein Bow's eyelids until she stirred with a groan. Such a nuisance served as a reminder to why she generally preferred to sleep somewhere that enclosed her in sanctuary.

She turned her head slightly, her gaze settling on the small figure curled near the glowing embers of last night's fire. Nadia lay motionless, her crimson hair tangled like seaweed across her pale cheek. After the miracle worker of the Aquamarine Ocean had left the princess in the cave, Rein had decided she would personally escort Nadia to the palace in Helvetica, where she was to live with King Darren and Queen Ariana for the rest of her life; a life which was expected to be more pleasant than the one she was forced to live with her severely unhappy mother in the ocean. It was the best Rein could do after having failed the empress, and by association, Nadia.

The pixie hovered just above the sand, wings buzzing softly. Her instinct told her to let the child rest. She could search for berries, maybe something sweet to soften the morning. With a last glance at Nadia, Rein flitted silently out of the cave.

Moments later, the silence shifted. Nadia stirred, her fingers curling in the sand before she slowly pushed herself upright. A breeze tugged at her hair as she blinked blearily into the light. Her back was stiff, her skin too dry, and when she brushed her hand down her legs ... her legs ... it all came flooding back. She hadn't been dreaming after all.

The wind through the damp cave had replaced the gentle murmur of ocean currents. The soft chime of shells was gone. There would be no more bathing in bubbles, no more shellfish meals, no more tutoring sessions with her octopus governess. It all gave way to the foreign weight of knees and feet beneath her, the pull of gravity tethering her to the ground. She scanned the rocks around her as it all sank in; it seemed Rein had abandoned her as well.

Then her mind began to stir with vague instructions rising from memory like messages in bottles, bobbing just out of reach. She had been told something important. No, many things. The miracle worker's voice echoed faintly in her thoughts, lilting with a strange accent. Her name was Sierna. She was ten years old. She was only allowed to take on her mermaid form every ... three weeks, was it? For a total of two weeks? Because she needed to eat more crystals every ... four years?

Her brow furrowed. The details tangled in her head like a forest of kelp. There were too many rules. Too many numbers. She shook her head sharply, as if the motion might shake the fog loose. Focus. Her name was Sierna, she was ten years old, and she was not a mermaid. She could figure out the other details later.

Her gaze dropped to the sand beside her, where the golden ball rested in the morning light, unnaturally perfect. Cold dread trickled down her spine.

Your mutter has cursed you, the miracle worker's accent resounded in her head. Dis golden ball is your life. If someone touches it, you lose your strength and grow weak. You have a month to touch da ball again before you die. Keep it hidden at all times. No one can know it exists.

The memory jolted her into motion. Without thinking, Nadia snatched the orb and scrambled to the back of the cave where she began frantically digging at the ground behind a rock. Sand flew from her fingers as she clawed, tearing apart the floor of the cave to create a hole deep enough to cover the orb completely.

Keep it hidden at all times.

The golden sheen disappeared beneath layers of grit and gravel. She pressed another rock on top of the mound, and sat back on her heels, breathing hard. The orb was safe ... for now.

No one can know it exists, echoed the miracle worker's voice. No one.

But as the adrenaline ebbed, a heavy stillness returned. The rules hadn't vanished. The truth hadn't changed.

She was Sierna. She was ten. And she was cursed.

Nadia stood and took a step back, wobbly at first. She examined the spot where she had just buried her deepest secret. She backed farther and scanned it again, searching for any sign that something precious and dangerous slept below the surface. A sigh escaped her, soft and cracked. She wiped at a tear with the back of her hand, quick and clumsy. Then she turned toward the mouth of the cave, and recoiled. The sunlight flooded into the cave, uninvited and insistent. It was intense, blinding even. How did landfolk tolerate such an invasion on a daily basis? She stepped forward hesitantly, shielding her eyes from the hot glare.

Outside, the ocean hurled itself at the shore again and again, each wave collapsing in a rush of foam as if the sea longed to join her on land, forever failing to reach. Nadia stood at the cave's mouth, blinking into the strange brightness of the surface world. Everything felt reversed. Tilted. Wrong. She searched for something familiar, something to anchor her, and there were some things. Both worlds had palaces, for one. The birds flew above like fish swam, only she wouldn't be able to chase them here. The rocky cliffs were the same, only instead of swimming over them she would have to ... was the word crawl? Or was it climb?

Slowly, Nadia emerged onto the beach, taking her time to get reacquainted with her legs. She had practiced last night with Rein, so she hoped the ability would return quickly. Gravel shifted beneath each step, straining her muscles and causing her to tumble countless times. She gnashed her teeth against the mounting frustration of the struggle. How long did it take landfolk to learn to walk without falling all the time? She prayed this would get easier. Rein had mentioned it would once she exited the beach. Nadia recalled the direction the miracle worker had told her to head. Her new home was another palace, which shouldn't be too difficult to find. With any luck, she would make it without collecting bruises along the way.

※

Not long after Nadia left the cave, Rein returned. Her wings hummed as she darted through the salty air, balancing a leaf curled into a bowl and filled to the brim with plump, dusty-blue berries. She grinned. Not bad for foraging on short notice, she thought. Nadia would be hungry when she woke up. Maybe berries would soften the edges of this cruel new world. But as she drifted into the cave's cool shadow, something snapped in her chest. The smile vanished.

Nadia was gone.

A sharp bolt of fear hit her like lightning. The leaf slipped from her hands, and the berries spilled into the tide with a soft plop

"Oh no," she murmured.

The direction was etched in Nadia's eyes the night before, and the trail of footprints in the sand confirmed it. But what made Rein's wings twitch with urgency wasn't the trail, it was the day. Market Day. The streets of Helvetica would already be swarming with carts, horses, and impatient crowds. A fragile girl with no sense of how this world worked would stand out like a drop of ink in clear water. Rein's gut twisted. Before the thought was even formed, her wings sliced through the morning air as she shot from the cave in a streak of light. She had to find the princess before some unsympathetic citizen found her first.

When she reached Helvetica, Rein flitted from rooftop to rooftop, her small frame darting across the sun-scorched copper tiles, the heat rising in waves from below. The vantage point gave her cover and a great view, but even from above, the city was turmoil dressed in silk. Below, the streets of Helvetica bloomed like a spilled paint box. Citizens swirled beneath her in a blur of light blues, rosy pinks, and vivid greens, their clothes stitched with silver threads and wrapped with bronze sashes, gold-tipped turbans, and jewel-toned saris that shimmered in the sun. It wasn't just the women, either. The men glinted like walking crystals; their necks and wrists strung with polished stones that caught the light and flung it cruelly into Rein's eyes.

And as if the people weren't contributing enough to the rainbow-likeness of the town, the buildings joined in the spectacle. Adobe walls were washed in turquoise, magenta, lavender, and aqua. Flowering vines crawled over every surface, curling around doorways and windows like nature's own embroidery.

Rein was overwhelmed. This was an assault of color and sparkle that made her eyes ache, and her focus scatter. Every time she thought she spotted a flash of crimson hair or a pale, unsure face, it vanished behind a swaying basket or the gleam of a gilded carriage. Rein perched on the edge of a domed roof, wings buzzing with agitation, scanning the kaleidoscopic mass below. Coaches blazed like miniature suns, yellow carts bumped through the crowds, and towering stacks of wares blocked every possible glimpse of her missing ward. Nadia was far too small, and the townsfolk far too loud. A low growl of frustration escaped her lips. There had to be an easier way to search for a child among a bedazzled crowd.

※

Navigating the teeming streets of Helvetica on Market Day was an aggravating feat, each step blocked by shouting customers, wandering children, and townsfolk who moved as if the road belonged to them alone. Bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, merchants hollered over one another, and the scent of spice, sweat, and ripe fruit hung heavy in the air. The sheer chaos was maddening, and that was without the addition of hooves and wheels. Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on who was asked—the law forbade commoners from bringing horses, donkeys, zebras, or any beast of burden into the market on this day. Helvetica, proud and wealthy, couldn't afford the spectacle of tangled reins, smashed pottery stands, or the occasional trampled child. Only nobility, law enforcement, and their servants were permitted such luxuries.

Even then, few nobles had braved the crowds that day. But among those who did was a satyr butler, his black hair slicked back to match the coarse fur on his goat-like legs. He rode a polished silver stallion with the stiffness of someone who preferred to be anywhere else. Behind him followed two footmen: Alik on a smoky-gray mustang, and Nazar atop a zebra, both wearing identical scowls.

The townspeople parted reluctantly as the trio advanced, pushed aside by nothing more than the glint of the Count of Helvetica's crest wafting from their saddles. No one wanted trouble with the count, even if the men who served him looked as though the very sight of the market was an insult to their sensibilities. To stir trouble with the count was to invite the queen's wrath by extension; their alliance was so seamless, it was hard to know where his influence ended and hers began. Still, noble crest or not, the crowd was thick, the pace slow, and the servants' scowls only deepened with every delay.

※

Nadia clung to the darkness between narrow cobblestone alleys. Her fresh bare feet skimmed over mossy stone as she slipped behind clusters of blooming flowers, and trees sprinkled with pale pink petals. She was surrounded by a confusing myriad of foreign fragrances, some sweet and some savory. She kept her head low, eyes flicking among the towering figures that strolled past: two-legged and four-legged creatures with smooth skin, stiff postures, many overtly frustrated with each other. She wasn't used to being alone, and certainly not here in a world so bright and strange it made her chest feel tight. The townsfolk moved with casual confidence, their garments crisp and tailored, colors vibrant beneath the morning sun. Nadia glanced down at herself and winced. Her harem pants clung to her narrow hips, but the fabric sagged oddly. Worse was her choli. Perhaps once it was a regal purple, but now it was faded and stretched in places, water-warped and hanging loosely from her shoulders. The time it had spent in the ocean had not been kind.

Nadia wasn't able to take the alleys all the way to the Helvetican Palace. There finally came the moment where she had no choice but to emerge onto Helvetica's main road. She stopped just short of the open street, tucked behind a shrub pruned neatly into the shape of a heart. Voices drifted past, sharp and jarring. Laughter, gossip, shouting, and a clopping sound she couldn't pinpoint. Her fingers dug into the shrub's leaves. She turned away from the mass beyond the alley and closed her eyes. She drew in a long breath, and tried to steady the panic tapping against her ribs.

When she finally turned to step out, her vision was filled with white. She was nose-to-nose with a ... land-kelpie. The correct name escaped her chaotic thoughts. Its breath was warm against her face, its velvety nose inches from her. Riding it was a royal officer in silver trim; he narrowed his eyes beneath the shadow of his helm as his gaze swept over her filthy clothes, salt-matted hair, and bare feet.

"What are you up to, my dear?" the officer asked.

Nadia wrapped her arms tightly around her ribs, as if she could hold herself together by sheer force. She kept her gaze fixed on the ground, refusing to meet the officer's eyes. "I-I'm trying to get home."

"And where might that be?" the officer questioned further.

"That way," Nadia pointed.

"Only the palace is that way." The officer dismounted his ride. "You can't tell me that you live at the palace."

"My ... my mother's a servant there."

"I'm sure she is. Let's tell the truth now. Where are your parents?"

It was no wonder the officer didn't believe the story. One glance at her and doubt painted his face. Nadia saw it clearly in his eyes, and that was all she needed. She ran. Her feet slapped the cobblestones as she bolted down the alley, the force rippling up her legs with a foreign sensation that felt like it should hurt, but it didn't. Another figure rounded the far corner: a second officer, boots polished, hands already reaching for her. Nadia didn't think. She ducked low, twisted past him with a startled gasp escaping her lips, and kept running. Behind her came the thundering clash of hooves echoing off the stone walls, heavier than the current echoes off the walls of an underwater cave. She'd never heard anything like it, and the cacophony carried a new level of dread that was alien to her.

She veered sharply, catching the corner of the building as she nearly lost her footing. She flung herself into the bustling crowd, and the street swallowed her whole. Townsfolk shouted in surprise, leaping back as she threaded through carts and elk legs and baskets of fresh figs. The officers pulled up short, unable to charge through the crush of people without mowing them down. Their land-kelpies whinnied in protest.

Nadia didn't slow. She ducked under a wheelbarrow, spun around a startled vendor, and narrowly missed a bleating goat. She felt her legs begin to protest the exertion, clumsy and unfamiliar, muscles burning with the strain of a body not yet her own. She wasn't built for this—running, balancing on two limbs, dodging the sharp corners of land. The world swayed. Her breath came in shallow bursts.

"Grab that girl!" the first officer demanded.

His outcry cut through the din of the street, but most of the crowd barely glanced up. Only one man reacted, a butcher with blood on his apron, and forearms thick as tree trunks. He stepped into Nadia's path, eyes narrowing with disdain. Before she could pivot, his hands shot out and closed around her like a vice. Quickly, he shoved her toward the approaching officers. The second officer dismounted, his boots hitting the ground with an emphasized thud she felt in her chest.

"I'm under the impression that your parents are nowhere to be found," said the first officer.

"Or that you don't have any at all," added the second. He set Nadia on his land kelpie. "And as I'm sure you're aware, Their Majesties have zero-tolerance for any homeless folk roaming the streets. It's unsanitary."

"Off to the auction with you."

"Aren't you a fortunate one? You made it just before the auction begins."

If only Nadia had the slightest inkling of what they were talking about...

※

Rein's attention snapped to the officer's cry, the sound slicing through the market's chaos and reaching her perch on a grocer's sign. She launched herself forward, zipping around awnings and flags, lampposts and lanterns, and baskets propped on people's heads, chasing the call like a spark in dry brush. She pulled herself to a full stop when she spotted the officers on horseback, their silver-trimmed uniforms flashing in the sun. Nadia sat slumped in front of one of them like a lost puppy, and Rein's heart shot into her throat. They rode toward the heart of the city where a bleak, pale structure loomed like bleached bone above the bustle: a snowwood platform, jarringly stark against the warm-toned stone and colorful shopfronts surrounding it. It hadn't been built for pageantry; it had been built to last. Behind it, a pen held a scattering of shackled souls. Elders, children, and those in between, all with faces plastered with resignation or defiance.

Rein darted to a blacksmith's shop which stood near the platform, and she slipped behind the soot-darkened sign which hung from its beam. Her wings twitched with anxiety as she watched the officers dismount their horses, and haul Nadia forward. A red-faced auctioneer met them, his belly strained against his leather vest.

"This one should sell fast," she heard one officer say.

"And hopefully for a heavy purse," added the second with a nudge to his partner.

"Oh, certainly," the auctioneer replied. "I've seen her kind sell well. I expect you both will make a contented crescent today."

The clink of chains reached Rein's ears before the full weight of it landed in her chest. The auctioneer barked orders, and his assistants moved with mechanical precision, wrapping iron around Nadia's wrists and ankles. Then they dragged her to the pen, and shoved her in with the other orphans and homeless: gaunt figures with hollow cheeks, knotted hair, and the empty eyes of those who'd already accepted their fate. From her perch above the forge, Rein curled her lip. Even with the tang of scorched metal in the air, the sour odor of unwashed bodies drifted up in wafts of sweat, despair, and rot clinging to skin and rags. Her eyes moved up to the platform where five of them were chained to posts; they would be the first to be auctioned off.

Rein's mind raced. She needed a way in. A distraction. A miracle. But the square was crawling with royal guards with sharp eyes, and hands on their hilts. Some stood at the foot of the platform, others patrolled the pen, the rest scattered at every corner of town. She clenched her tiny fists, jaw tight. The last time she'd felt this helpless, she'd been trying to save Nadia's mother from being a sacrifice for an underground cult. While she'd succeeded in that feat, her overall mission had ended in tears and silence. And that was how they'd ended up here, with the daughter in shackles. Would there ever be a time when things went the way they should with this bloodline?

When everyone's attention seemed to be on the stage, Rein flew from the sign and dropped low, landing behind one of the posts near the pen. She felt so thankful to have wings again. Moving on foot through a human-sized world had been frustratingly time-consuming, and made her vulnerable to more than just people with bad intentions. With her wings restored, she was once again the wind between cracks, the whisper in rafters. She watched the officers as they shifted in their stances, adjusting their gloves and gear. When she was certain she hadn't been spotted, she flew to Nadia and landed on her shackled wrists.

"Rein!" Nadia whimpered.

The pixie put a finger to her lips. "Shhh! I'm going to try and get you out of here."

Nadia curled her fingers around Rein, cradling the natural glow to keep it from drawing attention. Carefully, Rein stretched her thin little arm into the lock on the shackles, and fumbled with the mechanism. Above them, the auctioneer's voice burst into the square, a torrent of harsh, rapid syllables that tumbled over one another like falling stones. Rein couldn't catch a word, but the rhythm told her enough. The auction had begun. Not two minutes after the bidding began:

"Sold for five dawns!" Ten thousand dollars.

And the first chained figure vanished from the platform, dragged down by one of the assistants and toward a cloaked buyer at the edge of the square.

The crowd grew wild, and not entirely with joy. Voices rose in protest. Shouts of unfairness cut through the auctioneer's rapid chant, and accusations were hurled from shaded corners. Personal grievances tangled with business—rivalries, debts, bruised egos—and soon, harsh words gave way to fists. A scuffle broke out near the edge of the square. Then another, and soon the officers were forced to get involved. Hopefully, the ruckus would provide Rein with more time to spare.

It had been ages since the seconds felt this sharp. Rein recalled one day when she helped a forest sprite named Pryce, and a rat, Lusitania, steal money from the infamous Emperor Mentir. That could've gone better than it had, but luckily the three of them had made it out alive. Hopefully, this situation would have an equally happy ending.

"Sold for two dawns!" Four thousand dollars.

Rein had to focus. This was no time to dwell on the past. The lock claimed her vision, rusted teeth and ancient pins grinding beneath her fingertips. She pressed deeper into the mechanism, blocking out the shouting, the heat, the rising tension from the crowd. She had to save Nadia. Not just because the girl was shackled and scared and far too young to face a world this cruel, but because Rein had already failed this child's unhappy mother. Empress Renée, regal and restless, who had carried sorrow like a second crown. Rein had tried to guide her and help her see what the miracle worker had truly intended: for Renée to soften. To accept. To find joy in what already was. But Renée had never understood. Or perhaps Rein had never explained it well enough. The guilt burned, sharper than the iron enclosing her arm. But Nadia was a chance to make something right; to protect what she'd once failed to save. Rein gritted her teeth, setting her jaw with purpose. These shackles were going to come off if it meant her arm would be coming off with it.

"Sold for three dawns!" Six thousand dollars.

Only two souls remained on the platform now, both staring into the crowd with that glassy, half-hopeful look of the condemned. Once they were gone, five more would be dragged up, and Rein knew Nadia would be among them. Her wings buzzed with agitation as she pressed her tiny hands harder into the lock's crevice. The pins refused to yield. They stuck, scraped, shifted wrong beneath her touch. Every turn that should've clicked didn't. Every familiar motion met unfamiliar resistance. Why was the lock on these shackles so different from what she was used to? It resisted her just as stubbornly as the padlock that had sealed Renée inside the stone box in the White Castle. Rein hadn't been able to unlock that one either. Hopeless doubt began to mingle with her frustration.

"Sold! For a dawn!" Two thousand dollars.

Rein risked a glance toward the platform. One more person to sell.

"I don't think I'll get it in time!" Rein painfully admitted.

"I hope I'm not next," said Nadia.

"Sold! For five dawns!" Ten thousand dollars.

"They're coming!" Nadia warned.

Tears of fresh guilt pricked Rein's eyes. "I'll always be around! No matter what happens, don't worry."

Rein ached to offer something more. Comfort, reassurance, even a lie that everything would be okay. But there wasn't time. There was never enough time! With a frustrated breath, Rein flew back to the blacksmith's sign. Behind her, the heavy clank of the pen's gate swung open. The auctioneer's assistants marched in, their boots thudding on the stone like soldiers.

"Where's the redhead?" one called. "The little girl we just brought in before the auction started."

The officer beside Nadia raised his hand. "Over here!"

"Get over here, you!" the assistant demanded.

The officer gave her a hard shove with the toe of his boot, and Nadia stumbled forward, her bare feet dragging through the dust as she moved to the front of the pen. The assistant seized the chain between her shackles, and jerked her toward the platform. Her knees nearly buckled from the sudden pull, but he didn't slow. He hauled her up the wooden steps and toward the front post, the sun glaring down like a spotlight. With a swift motion, he clipped her chains to the iron ring and stepped back. Nadia stood alone, bound and trembling, the first offering on display. The crowd leaned forward.

※

Among the restless sea of bidders, Makiar, the satyr butler, smoothed his hair around his curled ebony horns. Beside him, Nazar scanned the stage with sharp, calculating eyes, and Alik lounged with casual arrogance. They hadn't stirred much, until now. When Nadia was dragged onto the platform, their postures changed. Heads tilted. Eyes narrowed. The weight of their attention fell over her like a second chain. It was about time the auction became interesting.

Makiar crinkled the parchment between his fingers. "That must be her."

"May I see the note again?" Nazar asked. Makiar handed the parchment over for him to review. "She does fit the description. I can't imagine there's another girl in there with these same qualities."

"How far up do we bid?" Alik asked.

"His Lordship says his limit is one million," Makiar replied. "But based on his tone I'm certain he has no limit. I'll let you do the bidding, Nazar."

"Very well," Nazar replied. "Let me know if you wish for me to stop."

"Here's a young and pretty one, folks!" announced the auctioneer. "She's certain to grow up strong and glamorous! You can tell by her crimson mane alone; who in this kingdom has such lovely hair besides the queen herself? If only you could feel her soft skin, it's as if she bathes in saltwater every night! Just imagine these arms around you when she becomes of age. Surely you can see her sapphire eyes from where you stand. They shine bright as the Northern and Southern suns put together! So, can I get a worthy starting bid from the audience?"

"Two dawns!" Nazar called out.

The starting bid was about four thousand dollars. A hush rippled through the crowd. Makiar's brow lifted ever so slightly as his gaze slid toward Nazar, tense and questioning. Had he miscalculated in letting the footman play bidder?

Nazar remained stoic, spine straight, face unreadable. If he noticed Makiar's doubt, he gave no sign. His eyes were locked on the platform. Let the number hang in the air like a blade, and scare off any unworthy opponents.

"Great griffins!" exclaimed the auctioneer. "It seems as though the Count of Helvetica is very interested in this one, folks! Does anyone dare to challenge him?"

"Five twilights!" a random gentleman called out. He, too, was dressed nobly with his own family crest draped over his ride.

"Six!" shouted Nazar. The scare tactic had failed. A muscle twitched at the corner of his jaw.

"Eight!"

"Ten twilights!" Nazar made sure his words were clear, and the crowd around him fell silent.

"Twelve twilights!"

"Fifteen!"

"Twenty thousand crescents!" called the gentleman.

"Fifty thousand crescents!" Nazar's gaze snapped to the man bidding against him, and their eyes met like blades being drawn in silence. "So who among us is the serious buyer?"

"Your superior, it would seem," said the gentleman. "Is he aware of how much he's spending on this child?"

"That isn't your concern. Cast your bid, or let it be!"

The man paused, and then waved his hand in surrender.

"Sold!" The auctioneer's grin almost claimed his entire face. "For fifty twilights! Give the man his slave!"

※

Rein stared at the platform. She dropped onto the blacksmith's weathered sign with a plop barely louder than a falling leaf, her legs folding beneath her. The final bid echoed in her head, louder than the crowd. The crowd murmured and gathered for the next round of slaves, but Rein sat in stunned silence, blinking through the number that refused to leave her thoughts. It wasn't just a high price. It was a claim.

Count Rallian, the Count of Helvetica, would guard Nadia like a private treasure now. Not out of affection, but out of sheer investment. Possession. He'd built a wall of coin around her, too high for Rein to fly over. No doubt this meant it would be a lot more difficult to get Nadia to the palace. Count Rallian and Queen Ariana were close friends, and she would defend his investments ... but the miracle worker had mentioned Their Majesties were expecting Nadia to arrive, so the queen wouldn't likely protect this investment ... would she? Something wasn't adding up in Rein's mind. None of this should have happened.

Still, perhaps the queen didn't know this had happened. Perhaps seeing her reaction when Nadia failed to show would provide Rein with some clarifying answers. But first, she wanted to visit the count's estate to verify that Nadia would be safe while she sought help.

Rein arrived at Count Rallian's property before his servants, the wind carrying her over hedges and iron gates to the crest of the hill. The elegant castle rose from the ground like a crown carved in stone, quiet, too polished for her taste. It stood just a few miles from the edge of Lucierna Forest, the trees watching like sentinels in the distance. As she hovered above the property, she studied every window, every tower, every wall. As much as the thought turned her stomach, Rein knew she had to be ready. If Nadia was trapped here longer than expected ... she needed to know exactly what kind of prison it would be.

Aimonbay Estate swelled with movement. There was an entire world behind its walls, and most of it unwilling. Slaves and servants moved across the grounds in carefully choreographed silence, a tide of bright colors against stone and greenery. At first glance, they dressed like townsfolk, in cheerful hues and flowing fabrics. But Rein's eyes, sharpened by centuries of seeing through masks, caught the truth immediately. Most weren't free. Fawns with heavy hooves dragging in the dirt. Satyrs forced to carry more than their backs were built for. Dryads wilted from long hours of toil, bark-flecked skin cracking at the joints. Humans, elves, dwarves, gnomes. Many were born between worlds, mixed-blooded and unclaimed. And among them, the golems. Golems were everywhere. Stone, clay, and wood. They were lumbering, silent things, shaped by magic and bound by chains more ancient than metal. It was no surprise. In nearly every land, golems were born to serve. But here, their presence was overwhelming; they were walking testaments to the Count's wealth and lack of restraint.

From the safety of trees and dense hedgerows, Rein floated along the edge of the courtyard. Marble statues stared blindly at her from pedestals, flanked by sculpted hedges twisted into impossible forms. The whole place reeked of curated control—beauty trimmed to the edge of cruelty. She landed lightly on the rim of a flambeau behind the castle, wings twitching as she surveyed the sprawl. The estate was expanding. Wooden scaffolding wrapped around one side of the manor, and freshly-molded stones were stacked in neat rows, hinting at more wings and corridors to come. Beyond that, an expansive garden stretched toward the horizon, half-finished but ambitious. Rows of cotton were already gleaming under the morning sun, and fruit trees and vegetables had been planted in perfect grids. A pasture nearby teemed with bleating sheep and slow-grazing cattle. And at the far end, a massive stable yawned open, large enough to house its own family. Coaches and carriages gleamed inside like polished beetles, and a chorus of equidae moved restlessly within their pens.

Rein could easily tell the servants from the slaves. The servants wore no gold cuffs on their arms, and dressed in finer materials. They simply stood around to monitor the slaves who tended to the gardens behind the castle and in front, harvested the produce and cotton, cared for the sheep and cattle, fetched water from the large well, and whatever else was required to keep the estate in routine. They stood idly, some lounging in the shade, some adjusting their jewelry in the sun, or chatting with the lifeless tones of the disinterested rich. Their eyes were glazed. Their boredom was offensive. Rein curled her fingers into her palms, and looked away. She hadn't expected kindness here, but she hadn't expected this much indifference, either.

A deep breath did little to still her thoughts. The estate was too much. Every corner of it pulsed with unearned opulence. Count Rallian's wealth wasn't just excessive, it was grotesque. No man lived like this without help from someone higher. Someone like Queen Ariana. The two of them were best friends after all. What had Rallian done to deserve such a leisurely life?

Rein dove down to a tall, stained-glass window and peered inside the castle. Her eyes met with dozens of bodies in constant motion. Servants glided through corridors with trays and scrolls, slaves scrubbed, cooked, and swept. In the grand hall, others rehearsed on a small stage, their faces painted with practiced smiles, laughter brittle with obligation. Even the slaves here sparkled. Silk wrapped their limbs, and satin shimmered with every gesture. Jewelry caught the light, not reward, but decoration for display. It was theater. All of it.

Beneath the surface indignity, the castle's beauty was undeniable. Rein watched an opulent drawing room unfold like a painting, ordered and absurdly pristine. The silver-and-white tiled floor shone like frozen starlight, though someone still dragged a mop across it in slow, dutiful strokes. Ivory pillars stretched upward without a blemish, yet another hand polished the copper vines spiraling from floor to ceiling, burnishing already gleaming leaves. Curtains of turquoise and rose fell in thick, elegant folds beside furniture plump with new fabric, freshly fluffed, and fluffed again. Not because it was needed, but because nothing was ever enough.

Rein drooped down to the windowsill. It was a home anyone might envy until they saw what it cost to maintain. The abundance inside didn't shine; it bled. The sheer number of laborers, the relentless activity, drained the wonder from the walls. Beauty here was stripped of grace, weaponized, and wielded. And yet ... she closed her eyes for a moment. If there was any corner of this place where Nadia could find some morsel of peace and comfort, Rein prayed it would be enough.

At last, a distant rhythm of hooves rose far from the estate, and Rein's pointed ears twitched at the sound.

"Open the gates," she heard someone call out. "They've returned."

Rein soared high above Aimonbay, wings slicing the warm spring air as the Northern sun began to rise far behind the Southern sun. She watched as three figures on horseback entered the courtyard with Nadia. After the long descent down the winding road from the gate, the horses slowed to a graceful halt at the entrance to the castle. Makiar dismounted first, then reached up to help Nadia down. She moved stiffly, the ride clearly having worn on her. With a quiet word, he guided her toward the wide marble steps that rose to the looming iron doors. Alik took the reins without being told, leading the zebra and two horses toward the stables. The animals faded into the background as Makiar and Nazar flanked Nadia, escorting her into the castle's grand entrance, the doors groaning open to welcome them.

Rein wheeled in the air, then darted back to the tall stained-glass window she'd used before. Her breath caught in her throat as she searched the interior. She caught the blurred figures of Nadia and the two servants leading her through the gilded halls to the drawing room. Rein pressed closer to the pane with the perfect visual to watch what would happen next.

"Wait here." Makiar's words were muffled through the stained glass. "The count is currently away, but he'll return soon to speak with you."

Nadia obeyed without a hint of resistance in her demeanor. Where was the count? A flicker of unease swept through Rein. She glanced over her shoulder, half-expecting him to be looming behind her. Nothing. Just sky and hedges. Without a sound, Rein shot upward and rose above the castle's spires. She turned toward the road that wound like a ribbon from Aimonbay to Helvetica. In the far distance, just where the heat began to blur the horizon, a white and gray coach moved slowly along the road, glinting faintly beneath the suns. That had to be him. Relief loosened something tight in her chest. At least now she knew she wouldn't have to wait long. Whatever was coming, it would show itself soon enough.

She descended, alighting once again on the windowsill outside the drawing room. Inside, Nadia had sunk onto a settee, arms gently cradling her head, her gaze blank. She hadn't moved from where they'd placed her. Still, obedient. For now. Rein studied her closely. If Nadia had learned anything from her adoptive mother, this quiet compliance was only an opening act. A mask. Count Rallian had better not get used to this subservient behavior from his new slave.

"Hang in there," Rein said softly. "This won't be permanent."