However, as soon as my attention hit the restroom's swinging door and I heard the faint flush of a toilet, true to nature, my body reminded me it was time to relieve myself.

Graysen was preoccupied with the messages flooding in on his phone. He frowned, squinting at the screen, scrolling downward, and muttering beneath his breath, "Hells, fucking hells."

Whatever was going on, I didn't care, I fucking needed to pee—now! I tapped him on the shoulder. "I need to go to the bathroom." It was the second prod when he finally glanced across at me.

"Huh?"

I arched an exasperated eyebrow, flipping up a hand and pointing to the restroom door we were approaching. "The restroom. I need to visit it."

"Yeah, sure," he murmured. But with the faraway quality of his gaze, I knew he wasn't listening to me properly.

"Just make sure I can reach that far," I bit back, tapping the rope around my neck. I had no idea how far my leash stretched.

He nodded in a distracted way, before going back to his phone. His brow furrowed deeply and he rubbed his mouth, completely absorbed with whatever message he was reading.

It was Luther who slowed his pace and ordered one of the younger men to escort me. I peeled away, while the others carried on toward the market. Graysen's pace picked up and his attention was split between rapidly typing a message on his phone and glancing furtively ahead as if he were looking for someone.

The bodyguard accompanying me was male, so when I pushed through the swinging door leading to the female restrooms, he had to remain outside. "Five minutes," he ordered quietly. I rolled my eyes, because what could I do with the godsdamned rope around my throat? It wasn't as if I could make a break for it. I couldn't escape through one of the tiny bathroom windows as I'd often seen in films or television shows.

The bathroom was large and split into two separate areas by a partial wall of basins backed by tall mirrors that crossed its middle. There weren't that many women in the bathroom. A tall athletic girl with a messy black bun leaned over a round basin, squinting at her reflection, and applied a fresh coat of lip gloss. The flush of a toilet eddied away and a sophisticated-looking woman in an expensive skirt suit exited a stall, a Hermès handbag hanging off the crook of her elbow as she sashayed over to the row of stylish basins. I padded across the tiled floor and ducked around into the back area. Here, out of view, it was a reverse setup of the front area with long rows of mirrored basins and stalls.

Finding one free, I entered, shut the stall's door, and snipped the lock. I fluffed about with my skirt and panties, sat down, and went about my business, all the while thinking about this strange afternoon I'd experienced in Graysen's company. I was just as curious about Tabitha Crowther's friendship with a Horned God as I was about the Purveyor of Rarities himself. How many of those otherworldly beasts we served were part of the collective yet didn't prey on mortals? How many Horned Gods resided outside of the collective? Though Florin was scary, from the brief moments I'd observed of his interaction with Graysen in the office he also seemed nice. And his magnificent lair...I could have stayed in his shop for years and still not had enough time to catalog everything he'd collected.

Finished up, a rush of tumbling water filled the stall, and I rose, righting my clothing. Leaving the stall, I strode straight to the long line of washbasins. Frothy soap piled into a miniature mountain in the middle of my palm as I pumped the dispenser, and its fake floral fragrance drifted through the air. The water tap was cool beneath my fingertips as I turned the faucet on and water rained out, quickly heating with steam rising in tendrils. Stinging hot water splashed over my hands as I massaged the soapy suds over my knuckles while staring at my reflection in the mirror, at the scarf tied around my throat. My hair swung wide, dancing over my shoulders as I stretched my neck from side to side, wondering if I really did feel the sensation of tiny mites crawling around the knot, their bodies scraping against my skin, or if it was a phantom itch, a figment of my imagination.

Like the smooth white basin churning with hot water, ideas tumbled around in my head on what was going to happen next. We'd probably head back to Graysen's family estate, but maybe he would let me continue to look around the market, maybe we could venture further and explore the city. A thrill zinged down my spine at the thought. Maybe we'd end up at the Night Bazaar. Lise had raved about it, Evvie too.

My older sisters had shared so many wonderful stories about the enchanting bazaar. Aldan had taken Lise there on one of their dates, and one summer evening my father had escorted Evvie after she'd begged him to take her.

My sweet, thoughtful sister had gone to the bazaar for me. Evvie had used her phone to record the vibrant sights and wares; the golden starbursts of fireworks razoring across the dark sky; the astonishing fire eaters and steel drummers. Upon her return home, she'd snuggled up beside me in my bed and shared it with me.

Evvie.

Lise.

Excruciating longing for my sisters shoved me under its hopeless depths. All I wanted to do was fling myself into Evvie's arms, Lise's too, and hold them tight and stay with them forever in a cocoon of happiness. I swallowed back the bitter lump in my throat, the heavy, hollow heartache expanding in my chest.

Tipping up my chin, I narrowed my eyes at my reflection. Determination coursed through my veins and burned despair to ash. Beneath the streams of water, my hands bunched into fists. I'd see my sisters again. Soon. In two weeks when the mites had freed me from the collar.

Suddenly, above the sound of churning water, came the tinkling chime of a little girl's laugh and tiny footsteps running to the door. I tilted my head to cock an ear and listen closely as her mother chased after her and called her daughter's name in exasperation. A swing of the door...another...and then they were gone and the only sound was the splash of water running over my fingers.

The metal tap squeaked as I turned the water off and then reached sideways to tug a paper towel free from the dispenser. The quilted paper became limp and waterlogged as I dried my hands. Scrunching it into a wet ball I tossed it into the litter bin. Heaving a sigh, I raised my arms, intending to fix my hair, smooth the fuzzy curls, and flip the long locks over my shoulder...when I froze.

A scent whirled around me. A scent that inspired wild ocean spindrift and a deeper note of leather and masculine spice.

My eyes flared wide and whipped to the mirror, cloudy with steam, to the reflected image of someone wearing a black baseball cap that shadowed the top half of their face, just as they stepped right behind me.

A man.

His approach had been so soft I hadn't heard it. My heart punched my ribcage, threatening to burst from my chest. My mouth parted on a scream. A scream that was killed before it had a chance to be born the moment he held a finger to his lips.

The stranger snatched the hat from his head, revealing a flattened mess of short brown hair. His free hand shot up, presenting a pacifying palm. His voice was low, urgent and rushed. "I keep doing this, startling you... I'm sorry."

Dustin Reed.

What the hells was he doing here?

So many questions rattled around in my head that I found it impossible to focus on just one of them. Why was he here? How did he manage to get past the bodyguard stationed outside the bathroom? He'd made it into the female restrooms as well. To see me. Why hadn't I seen him on the Crowthers' estate?

In the front area of the bathroom came the crashing sound of the door being shoved open, a clatter of high heels, and a squeak of sneakers on the tile. The loud gossiping of teenage girls talking over the top of one another resounded within the airy space. Dustin grabbed my hand, whirling me around and drawing me inside a stall. He shut the door with his free hand, the metal lock clicking into place.

He stilled, frowning at the door and listening as the girls, still chattering, split apart to use the bathroom facilities.

I stared down at the long, tapered fingers looped around my hand. The feel of them were rough and calloused, similar to Graysen's, and a crack of restless energy pulsed across my skin. I peered up at his profile, tracing the curve of his eyebrows, the lashes fringing dark chestnut brown eyes, before slipping down the straight line of his nose to full lips pressed into a firm line. I wondered, beneath the short beard, what the shape of his chin was like. I was hyper-aware of how closely we stood, the warmth of his body seeping outward to lick against my own. He wasn't as tall as Graysen and the form-fitting clothes he wore revealed he was leaner too, with more of a wiry muscle build to his physique.

Dustin Reed.

I couldn't deny that he was attractive.

But I also knew nothing about him.

I was confined in a small space with a man I didn't know, far too soon after Danne. And a fresh burst of anxiety arose. Yanking my hand from his, I edged away, but the backs of my legs caught on the toilet situated behind me and I almost lost my balance.

Dustin spun around.

He blinked, his jaw slackening, obviously reading the unease scrawled all over my features. He jerked his hands upward trying to reassure me. "I'm sorry...I, ah...Did you get my message?"

I had. I'd found the mites too. But I needed him to say the other out loud. "How did you get your hands on the letter?"

"Evelene," he replied, lowering his hands to his sides.

Just hearing her name had relief spreading right throughout my body and it untangled all the tense knots in my muscles. Her name spoken aloud brought a smile to my lips. Evvie was the only one within my family who knew about those letters from my mysterious pen pal. Letters written to me and passed through her.

Dustin visibly relaxed at my reaction. As he spoke he kneaded the baseball cap clutched within his fingers. "She knew you'd know to trust me if I handed the letter over to you."

My gaze flicked over him. He looked striking, yet ordinary in dark wash jeans, a casual blue t-shirt, and a black cap, and certainly not how I'd encountered him in the library at the Keep in a formal servant's uniform. I might not know Dustin Reed, but my sister did if the letters he'd secretly given me were any indication.

If my sister trusted him, then I would too.

Rising up on my toes, I craned my neck back and matched his low whisper. "What are you doing here?" How did he even know I'd left the estate? Had he been following us all this time? It wasn't as if Graysen and I had snuck away, we'd practically screamed that we were leaving the estate, protected within a formidable convoy.

But following me here in the restrooms?

It was more than risky.

As if he knew my line of thought, his mouth pulled into an apologetic grimace and his breath whispered over my temple when he said, "It's the only way I could see you. I needed to make sure you were alright. Evelene's out of her mind with worry. She's been waiting for me to report back to her." He ran his free hand through his hair, ruffling the smoothed locks into disheveled spikes. His voice gritted with anger as he folded his cap and shoved it into the back pocket of his jeans. "Jett's playing me. As soon as I arrive back at the estate I'm sent off again on a random errand."

The air whooshed out of my lungs. "Do you think he knows you're a spy?"

He shook his head. "No. It's simply about the mutual dislike Jett and Fluffy the Fourth have for one another. He wants Mrs. Lyon's dog far away from the estate and him, and that means sending me away."

I had so many things to ask. So many things to say. But the most important was my sister. "How is Evvie?"

His mouth pulled into a tight smile and his eyes softened with compassion. "She's as well as can be expected under the circumstances." Abruptly the air thickened with tension. His gaze darkened and voice roughened. "Has he hurt you?" Heat with laser focus razed my skin wherever his gaze tracked as he performed a visual check for wounds or bruises on my body.

I frowned, rolling back on the flat of my feet, wondering who he was talking about. My nose scrunched. "Graysen?" And then it startled me when I realized that he hadn't. He'd done nothing to terrorize or hurt me.

Dustin's slitted gaze snapped to mine. By his sides, his fingers curled into fists. "If he has..." The vehemence blazing through his tone sent a shudder of warning rolling down my back.

I shook my head. "No."

Dustin's mouth thinned and he looked as if he didn't believe me. "Your sister's terrified about the Alverac binding you to...him."

Hells, it scared me too. It was something I didn't want to think of and so far I'd managed it. I couldn't plan any further than getting the rope off my neck. I knew it was a false hope to cling to—escape—because the Alverac would tie my body and soul to Graysen's will until my death. And that wouldn't be very long because the Witches Ball was to be held in two months. But what else could I do but hope for a miracle?

I waited patiently, expecting Dustin to continue, to say more, to be upset, maybe even curse with anger about the Witches Ball. Weirdly he stopped speaking and stared at me, waiting for me to say something.

My head went silent. Silent but for one fact.

Dustin didn't mention the Witches Ball.

He and Evvie were only worried about the Alverac.

I started getting this awful, awful feeling when it dawned on me that no one outside of the Crowther family would know what they were up to. Which meant my family was unaware of the extent to which the Crowthers were willing to go.

My parents thought all of this was simply revenge. They believed the punishment for their betrayal would be extracted through me. That's why the Crowthers had sought the Alverac and I'd been chosen for the insidious contract.

My parents had no idea that Tabitha was still alive.

And they were completely unaware I was going to be auctioned off at the Witches Ball.

The revelation was a weightless jolt, a sensation much like the sodden ground falling away from beneath me when I stood on the cliff's edge with Graysen staring back at me in horror.

"Can you please pass on a message to Evvie? To my family as well." My voice cracked and I wet my lips with a dry, rasping tongue. "Tell them that I'm okay." What else could I say? What use would it be to worry them further?

There came a loud barrage of knocks on the restroom door, pounding through the air. My bodyguard called out in a gruff voice, "Miss Wychthorn?"

Hellsgate!

In a panic, I pushed past Dustin, leaned against the stall door, and cried out, "I'm coming!" Twisting my upper body around I lunged and grabbed hold of him. "He can't find us together. I've been in here too long. I need to go." Dustin stared down at my hand on his forearm with a mixture of emotions so enmeshed I couldn't quite work them out. I didn't have time to either. I let him go and reached for the door handle. This time it was he who stopped me with a hand curling around my upper arm. His touch was warm and infused with strength, and for a moment, brief like a flash of white-hot light flashing across a stormy sky, I liked it.

My gaze swung back to him. He smiled, showing a sliver of white teeth. His gaze was rich with tenderness and determination. "You'll see your sister and family soon, I promise. Hang in there. It might take a little bit longer than I'd hoped but I'm working on a way to free you."

"Okay," I whispered. Though I was working on my own plan to save myself, I'd be a fool not to accept his help if it came along.

His smile broadened and I nodded.

With one last, tentative glance back at him, I slipped through the stall door, shut it behind me, and ran toward the bathroom's entrance.