I wrung my hands together and begged mother Skalki that this wasn't going to happen tonight, that my parents wouldn't witness the degradation of me being sold. Would I be leaving with this stranger? Would he take me here at the Emporium or would it happen elsewhere?

"I can't believe you'd do this to me..." The words escaped my lips before I could stop them. "Especially after..." Danne.

Jett and his family knew I'd been trapped in a limousine with that repulsive man.

I was still confused as to why the Crowthers would put me through this. I couldn't understand their decision to break my father through me in this vile manner. Earlier, Kenton had even shown his unease. Jett hated the Pelans, all the Crowthers did for what Danne had tried to do to Ferne. Jett had just proven it with Corné. He'd been compassionate when I'd very nearly had a panic attack at the elder Pelan's presence.

Jett's gaze sliced to mine, and surprise lurched in my stomach. For a moment, I swore I saw contrition tormenting his violet eyes before he yanked his gaze away, his shoulders curving inward slightly. I licked my dry lips, before asking, "When?" my voice hoarse and barely a whisper.

"When, what?"

"When's all this supposed to happen?"

"Oh...ah..." He cleared his throat, waving his hand in a distracted manner. "Whenever he decides."

I refocused my attention on my father's heated argument with Kenton. His voice was pitched too low for me to hear everything he said, but I could see by my father's aggravated gestures and the clipped way he spoke, the angry curl of his mouth and fists, that he wasn't being polite.

I caught only a few words my father aimed at him, and they were arrows cutting through Kenton's stoic facade. "After Danne." "Assaulted." "You'd subject her to this?"

And in astonishment, I watched the older brother flinch. I'd never seen anyone but Penn manage to pierce Kenton's austere armor.

Caidan too, was listening in with his heightened hearing. He was so sickly-pale looking, that he seemed on the verge of throwing up all over his shoes.

My wide-eyed gaze shifted to the bid-winning man. He was a few years younger than my father with bouncy blond curls that were turning silver and a weathered face as if he spent time outdoors. Ashen-faced, he was hunched forward and seemed strangely nervous.

A familiar twang jarred along my bones. I frowned. My skirts floated outward as I shifted around to look at him better. That same feeling from before crept upon me that I'd met or seen him somewhere else. He brought the warmth of dappled sunshine upon my skin, the fresh, crisp scent of grass clippings.

I relaxed my mind and let it wander, marking the sensations that rose within me at the thought of this man. My senses pinched with the phantom scent of pungent greenery, and the tinny sound of metal bells ringing, the kind that was attached to bike handles. Children's laughter. Parents' gentle chiding. Sunshine in a clear blue sky. The sweet smell of roses.

And a vague vision began to form in my head.

Then sharpened to an image of this man kneeling on a grassy lawn, his fingers brown with the stain of soil as he tended to a flowerbed.

My eyes shot open and I gasped loudly, my entire body electrified with astonishment.

I knew exactly where I'd seen him before.

I rounded on Jett. "The man who's won me..."

"Yeah, what of it?" he murmured, his gaze fixed on Kenton and my father.

Bracing a hand on my hip, I hooked a thumb over my shoulder at the man. "HE'S YOUR GARDENER!"

Jett's gaze whipped to mine. Candlelight cut sharp angles into his face. His eyes were big and round, emphasizing his shock. "Ahhhh, huh? Hmmmmm, whaaa...noooo," he tried, flailing around pathetically in a sea of lies and half-truths.

I snatched up the end of Jett's tie and yanked him closer. He stumbled forward, strands of hair flicking around his head in a wild wave. I got right in his face and hissed, "He's your godsdamned gardener, Jett. I've seen him before, working in your mother's shared lawns!" The day that Graysen had shown me around the Keep, he'd stopped to talk to this man, who'd been pulling weeds from Tabitha's rambling wild roses.

He muttered something strangled beneath his breath, and I caught a name that sounded like Oswin.

At first, here at the Emporium, I'd assumed this man, Oswin, was hidden behind a wall of bodyguards to protect his identity from my father and his wrath, but clearly, they were shielding him because he wasn't a member of the upper ranks. I scowled at the Crowthers' gardener, supposedly bidding on me. His head was hanging low in remorse because of what he was pretending to do, not because we were ever going to actually do it.

And I knew deep down in my bones that this man who was supposedly outbidding everyone to own me represented the Crowthers at their very core—what they were capable of, or in this case not capable of. It certainly answered the question as to why Jett had been so vague with his answer about when this man was going to claim me. Never.

The godsdamned Crowthers weren't complete bastards, nor were they comfortable in their choice of threat. Caidan was unnerved and sickened by it as he anxiously paced back and forth. The gardener was so pasty looking, I wasn't sure if he or my mother was going to faint first. I'd even seen a chip in Kenton's armor, Jett's too.

It was a sick and vulgar ploy, and dare I say, beneath the Crowthers for even employing it. But...I did in some small way understand it. What choice did they have when the only option to gain an audience with a Horned God was at the Emporium, a brothel? Here, they could fell two birds with one stone—Jurgana and my father.

This was a ruse to terrorize my father into handing over Brangwene's Hjarte.

Yet, another question of a different nature itched at me.

Why did Jett despise me so much?

Jett stared at me with big, wide eyes, reeling with my discovery of their lie, while I stared blankly back, my mind unspooling at lightspeed. My head was a chaotic mess of questions and partial answers, of memories spanning the years—a rush of clashing thoughts so densely packed together, I couldn't think.

I needed to stop and take a breath.

I needed to pull this apart to find the Crowthers' truth.

Something rose inside my mind, stirred by the Crowthers' gardener. I mentally clicked my fingers, trying to jumpstart my memory. Feral—I'd spat at Graysen in regards to how I viewed his brothers. And what had Graysen said to me in return?

Feral—that's all we'll ever be to you because it's easy to see what you want to see. Take a closer look, little bird, and ask yourself, why.

I'd refused to listen to what he'd urged me to do, too stubborn and too pissed off at the time. However, now I needed to do it. I needed to look at the brothers' actions, not their words and seemingly empty threats.

Tabitha Crowther had not only stamped herself upon her family home but within those ancient walls as well. Graysen had taken me on a tour of the Keep and I'd discovered a home with a loyal heart that beat true and kind. My father had always said to know the truth of a family you needed to observe their servants. The Crowthers' servants, their staff, formed one entity with the ruling family. They were respectful, yet at ease. They weren't fearful of, nor did they cower before, the Crowthers. Over the past few days when I'd wandered around the Keep or leaned over the balcony railing of the tower to spy on the Crowthers, the brothers seemed like any other normal family, trading jibes and laughter with each other and those they worked alongside. Their mother had raised them that way, and that kind of upbringing, the kindness and compassion at the very core of them hadn't been erased.

Hells, I'd been living it up at the top of the tower with Graysen in comfort within his lovely quarters and whatever whim I fancied was supplied. And his brothers... Any one of them could have so easily gone against Graysen's wishes and snatched me while I'd drifted around the Keep unprotected. I could have been dragged beneath the fortress and tossed into the dungeon. Yet, though they wished for it, none of his siblings had actually done it. Ferne, Caidan, and Kenton had left me alone and undisturbed. Jett had been the only one of them to mess with me, when he'd made out he and his brothers had made a bet on whether or not I'd find the escape tunnel.

But was that just a lie he'd spun?

He'd been the only one of them that had truly threatened me, and yet...

A thunderous jolt of blinding clarity cleaved apart all other thoughts.

The answer arose, so simple and straightforward I should have realized it earlier.

Graysen had been battling what he truly felt for me far longer than when we'd first met the day of our supposed courtship. He'd had a heavy responsibility thrust upon his shoulders to be the one to bind me with the Alverac, and also be the one to place me on the auction block at the Witches Ball. So in turn he'd been cold, pushed me away, and kept up that wall of ice because he couldn't do what he'd been asked to do if he felt something for me.

Graysen's brothers only wanted to shove me into the dungeon, hidden away out of sight and out of mind, because they couldn't bear to be confronted by what they were going to have to do. Penn had been their last offering for the Witches Ball, yet not a single Crowther had been able to go through with it. Hellsgate, they hadn't even been able to go through with the Goods Appraisal. Like Graysen, the rest of his siblings couldn't afford to feel anything for me, nor recognize that I was innocent because this was the only way to ensure they could go through with something they knew was wrong—harming an innocent.

If they did they'd falter.

I was their last and only chance. They couldn't fail this time.

The reason why the brothers despised me more than they should, more than what was warranted, was that they'd been twisted to do so.

By Valarie, I was certain about it.

If I were Valarie, what would I do to ensure my family kept on task?

I'd manipulate their way of thinking about me.

Hells, I'd probably do more.

I sharpened my gaze on Jett and pressed my mouth into a grim smile.

No one was going to hear this conversation between the two of us, everyone else was too busy being distracted by my father and Kenton. Letting go of his tie, it fluttered back into place, and we both straightened.

Jett's black hair wavered around his shoulders as he steadied his stance while I steeled my spine, jutting a hip out in a cocky manner. "Why do you hate me?" I needed to reveal the heart of the Crowthers and I was going to do it by shoving a mirror in front of Jett to force him to stare into his reflection. I wasn't going to shatter his resolve, he was going to do it to himself.

He blinked up at me with exaggerated slowness. "What did you just ask?"

"I asked you, Jett Crowther, why you hate me so much," I said, pointing a finger at his face and circling it. The Crowther brothers didn't despise me in any kind of rational way. It was simply self-preservation so they could go through with this to save their mother. "What is it about me that causes so much dis—"

"Are you really that dense you can't figure it out?" he interrupted, his lips souring into a scowl. "My mother was betrayed to save your life!"

"Not good enough," I scoffed, ignoring the asshole's rudeness. "That was my parents' doing, not mine. I'm innocent in all of this and you know it. So why the need to despise me?" I'd felt it every time the brothers looked at me with derision at the House Gatherings. I puffed out a baffled breath. "What could I possibly have done to offend you?"

"Oh, I don't know," he snarked, stamping his heavy combat boots apart and bracing his fists on his hips. "Maybe appearing at House Gatherings with your family, safe and sound and happy, while mine fell to pieces."

"That's bullshit, Jett, and you're old enough to know it. Of course, I felt like that—any child would when their parents kept them safe and loved them." I slanted my head, knotting my arms across my chest, and stared down at him through narrow eyes. "I bet your aunt kept feeding you lies about why I was deserving of this, right?" I bestowed upon him a mocking smile. I dropped my voice lower but I was fairly certain no one would hear our conversation above the loud music and my father's bellowing. The Houses were transfixed with the confrontation between their ruler and the eldest Crowther brother. I forged on. "The spoiled Wychthorn princess whose secret is safely hidden behind the might of Great House while so many others were discovered and ended. I probably seek them out, right?" I challenged him. "Find others and whisper their names to my father so he can report them to Master Sirro."

Unease flashed through his eyes, and I knew I was right. Valarie had fed him lies of this kind before.

I pushed onward. Stabbing my finger into his chest, I prodded Jett several times, each one harder than the last, my voice roughened with building anger. "I'll marry well, right? Raise spoiled, entitled children just like me. Live a blessed life while scorning everyone else beneath my lofty rank. Especially you lot, the Crowthers, mere enforcers, and not worthy of my attention. I'll find a way to annihilate your entire family to keep my secret safe." I was huffing with quickened breaths by the time I finished. I rolled my eyes at the ridiculousness of it all and snorted. "Such, utter rubbish!"

"Rubbish?!" he snarled back, offended. He shoved forward, the muscles beneath his shirt bunching as if he was coiled ready to spring. "Do you know what fucking gets me every time? The hypocrisy of your father when he starts spouting canon law bullshit about others needing to be turned over to the Horned Gods every fucking chance he gets. And yet here you are, an other, protected within the Great House while everyone else suffers!" His long fingers twitched as if he itched to snatch a weapon and bury it into my chest. He leveled a hateful glare, his mouth curled viciously. "So many have been taken or slaughtered over the years. My mother. Elyse Estlore. That little Simonis boy last month, a Storm-weaver. His mother sacrificed herself to save her family. And yet you remain untouched by it all."

Shame was a cold sensation that froze the air in my lungs. In some twisted way, he was right, but I didn't care to heed it. "Do you know what I think?"

"I don't give a fu—"

"You lot need to hate me."

"Well it's not hard to do when my family can see my mother's suffering through me!" he spat at me as fast as a Uzi.

I sucked in a shocked breath.

And the world around me seemed to come to a grinding halt as what he'd admitted sank into my mind. "You're their window. The one who can feel her pain," I whispered, instinctively knowing he was the one with this kind of connection to his mother. Now his hatred made a sick sort of sense. What would that kind of connection with his mother do to someone? Especially feeling her suffering for so long. If I was Jett, I couldn't be sure I'd treat me any differently either. I'd perhaps been even more ruthless to save my family, my sisters, Lise and Evvie.

Jett's gaze clouded with bewilderment as to how I knew his secret.

"Graysen revealed it when I asked how your family knew she was alive after all these years."

A muscle in Jett's jaw twitched as he gritted his teeth together and dipped his chin in a violent motion of acknowledgment. It almost seemed as if the shadows were alive and collected around him, feeding his dark rage. There was a drawn-out pause before he spoke. His nostrils flared and his eyes hardened like granite, as he weaponized his words. "Whenever I saw you at House Gatherings, you shone, radiating in that strange fucking way you have about you." Though the words were lovely they were sneered. "But while you shone bright and warm like sunshine, my world was bleak with darkness and cast in shadowed pain."

All the warmth seeped from my body.

"I'd be standing there watching you. You'd smile and my mother's blood would catch fire. You'd laugh and the sound of godsawful cracking would fill my ears instead, my body fracturing then collapsing beneath me because her bones had been shattered." He tossed up an infuriated hand. "You'd share in some fucking joyous moment with your sisters and a bolt of white-hot lightning would explode in my head, fry my brain, and electrify my flesh from the inside out."

Dizziness swirled my head and I swayed on the pedestal, trying to fathom the magnitude of what she'd endured...he'd ensured.

"Every night you lay down on a bed of feathers while my mother's flesh was chilled from the cold ache of concrete."

"I didn't know..." I whispered, horrified.

"So yes, Wychthorn, it is easy for me to loathe you."

"Deep down you know the truth of me, that I'm innocent," I whispered pathetically. He closed his eyes and I knew he was doing it to shield himself from the truth. "You're going to have my blood on your hands, and you know it."

His mouth pinched into a firm line as if he dared not reply.

And then we both became aware of the strange silence that had befallen the rooftop like the hush of an audience as the theatre lights dimmed and the red velvet curtains were drawn to the sides of the stage. Even the music seemed to have quietened to allow the clack, clack, clack of high heels upon stone to ricochet outward.

I turned my gaze from Jett and watched Kenton melt back into the crowd as Valarie strolled across the rooftop to draw to an elegant halt in front of my father.