Chapter 7
Lirael
"He doesn't even see you as a person," she continued, her voice rising slightly. "You're a thing to him. A possession. Something to play with when he's bored and discard when he's done. At least I have a purpose here. At least I matter. What do you have? A collar and a cage and the master's fleeting interest. That's all you'll ever be."
I set down my fork very carefully and looked at her. Really looked at her. Saw the desperation in her eyes, the way her hands were clenched into fists, the slight tremor in her voice that betrayed how much she needed to believe what she was saying.
You're in love with him, I realized with a jolt of surprise. You've been in love with him for years, probably, and he's never even looked at you twice. And now he brings home a filthy elf in a prison uniform and pays more attention to me in one hour than he's paid to you in however long you've been serving him.
For a moment—just a moment—I almost felt sorry for her.
Then I remembered the contempt in her voice when she'd called me a defect, the pleasure she'd taken in showing me to the cargo hold, and the sympathy evaporated like morning dew.
You made your choice, I thought coldly. You chose to be cruel instead of kind. You chose to punch down instead of reaching out. Whatever happens to you now, you earned it.
I picked up my fork again and continued eating, dismissing her as thoroughly as Sebastian had dismissed her earlier. I saw her face flush with anger, saw her open her mouth to say something else—
And then the door to Sebastian's quarters opened and he emerged, and Isabella's entire demeanor changed in an instant. The anger vanished, replaced by eager attentiveness, her spine straightening and her expression smoothing into professional deference.
"Master," she breathed, and the devotion in that single word made my skin crawl.
Sebastian barely glanced at her, his attention fixed on me. He'd changed out of his blood-spattered suit into dark slacks and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, looking relaxed and refreshed and utterly in control.
"I trust you've been taking good care of our guest?" he asked Isabella, but his eyes never left my face.
"Of course, Master," Isabella said quickly. "She's been fed and cleaned, just as you ordered."
"Good." He moved closer, and I had to fight the urge to push my chair back, to put more distance between us. "And has she spoken yet?"
"No, Master. She remains... silent."
"Hmm." Sebastian stopped beside my chair, close enough that I could smell his cologne—something expensive and woodsy that probably cost more than my entire former life. "Still playing mute, little beast? How disappointing."
Go to hell, I thought viciously, keeping my face carefully blank.
He reached out and ran his fingers through my still-damp hair, the gesture almost affectionate, almost gentle—which somehow made it infinitely worse than if he'd been violent.
"Isabella," he said, not taking his eyes off me, "take her to the cargo hold. Show her where she'll be staying for the voyage."
I felt my stomach drop. Cargo hold. Of course. Because why would I rate a normal cabin?
But Isabella's face lit up with malicious pleasure, and I knew—I knew—that whatever was waiting for me in that hold, it was going to be bad.
"Of course, Master," she purred. "This way."
---
The cargo hold was deep in the yacht's lower deck, behind a reinforced door that Isabella opened with a keycard. The smell hit me first—animal musk, straw, the sharp tang of disinfectant trying and failing to cover organic waste.
The room beyond was large, clearly designed to transport exotic specimens. There were cages lining the walls—reinforced steel with thick bars, some empty, some occupied. A sleek black panther paced in one, its yellow eyes tracking me with predatory interest. A massive wolf with silver-streaked fur snarled from another. A hyena laughed manically in the corner. And in the cage closest to the door, a black cat with red eyes and scars from electrical burns watched me with unsettling intelligence.
Oh, I thought faintly. Oh, this is going to be interesting.
"Here," Isabella said with vicious satisfaction, gesturing to an empty cage in the corner. It was larger than the others, with a plush gold-trimmed cushion and a water dish engraved with Precious in cursive script. "Your accommodations. They were originally intended for a very expensive Persian show dog, but I suppose they'll do for you."
She shoved me toward the cage, and I stumbled, catching myself on the bars. The metal was cold under my palms, and I could feel the other animals' attention on me, sizing me up, trying to figure out what I was.
Predator or prey? they seemed to ask.
Neither, I thought back at them, reaching out with that ancient part of myself that the collar couldn't quite suppress. I'm something else entirely.
"Get in," Isabella ordered, her hand on my shoulder, nails digging in through the fabric of my dress.
I turned to look at her, and for just a moment, I let my mask slip. Let her see the cold calculation in my eyes, the promise of retribution, the absolute certainty that this humiliation would not go unanswered.
She actually took a step back, her face paling.
That's right, I thought with dark satisfaction. Be afraid. You should be.
Then I stepped into the cage without a word, settling onto the cushion and pulling my knees up to my chest. I looked at her with empty eyes, my face a perfect mask of resignation.
Isabella slammed the cage door shut with a clang that echoed through the room, making several of the animals flinch. She locked it with a keycard swipe, then stood there for a moment, hands on her hips, looking down at me with naked contempt.
"Comfortable?" she asked sweetly.
I said nothing. Just stared at her with those empty eyes, waiting.
She laughed—a sharp, ugly sound. "You know what I think? I think the master will get bored of you in a week. Maybe less. And then you'll just be another animal in a cage, and I'll be the one he actually pays attention to. The way it should be."
Dream on, I thought.
She turned on her heel and stalked out, the door slamming behind her with a finality that would have been terrifying if I wasn't already planning my next move.
The moment she was gone, I let out a breath and looked around at my fellow prisoners. The panther had stopped pacing. The wolf's ears were pricked forward. The hyena had gone quiet. And the black cat was watching me with those unsettling red eyes, head tilted in what looked like curiosity.
Hello, I thought, reaching out with that wordless communication that was older than language, older than magic. I'm sorry for what they did to you. I'm sorry you're here.
The cat blinked slowly, then made a soft, questioning chirp.
I'm going to get out of here, I promised it silently. And when I do, I'm going to make them pay. All of them.
The cat studied me for a long moment, then deliberately turned its back on the door and curled up facing my cage instead.
Trust, that gesture said. I'll give you a chance.
I smiled for the first time since Sebastian had put that collar around my throat. It wasn't a nice smile. It wasn't a happy smile. It was the smile of a predator who'd just been handed the perfect weapon.
Thank you, Isabella, I thought with vicious satisfaction. You just made the biggest mistake of your life.