The room Iliana found herself in was similar, but different to when she visited Lykos.

Built out of dark stone, it laid bare of any recognizable bits of furniture or features, but held plenty of questionable pieces she couldn't have named. Light streamed in from the open balcony, illuminating a hook hung from the ceiling, alongside chains and collars that had her breath coming in short, nearing-panicked breaths.

Aria tugged her to a stop in the center.

"It's meant to scare, Milady," the demon warned her in a quick, hushed tone. "Remember what, who you are. They can't harm you, not truly. Not in any physical manner. His Imperial Majesty wouldn't enjoy showing you off near as much as he does if you had any...flaws. He wants complete control, he wants you to come to him of your own accord, but won't sacrifice your perceived value to get that. Bend to what he wants, or stubbornly stay as you are, just don't break."

The warning was clear enough--whatever the master of the tower did, it would be nothing more than she could endure. At least, nothing physically.

Her mind was another story.

With those "encouraging" words, Aria beckoned Iliana over so she could cuff her wrists together before affixing them to one of the dangling chains, then left.

Time passed immeasurably slow.

With her hands overhead, Iliana couldn't reach for the ankle, nor the fox charm. It left her with no distraction for her rapidly climbing nerves. All she could truly do was focus on the weight of the ring against her neck as seconds crept into minutes, then perhaps hours only notable by the slow descent of the sun into darkness. Eventually, the tower door crept open to reveal a gray haired demon with an unrecognizable human woman at his side. He said nothing, merely eyeing Iliana with interest as he approached, before nudging her knees with a foot and laughing as the small touch caused her aching limbs to give out beneath her.

She bit her tongue hard enough to taste blood, but didn't say a word. Swearing would only get her so far at this point.

The man laughed musingly, again, before gesturing for the woman to fetch something from the wall. His attention didn't shift from Iliana.

"Sorry about that, it took me some time to find a good volunteer. It's been awhile since I was handed one of the menagerie and it seems the tower's inhabitants had forgotten the benefits of playing nice. Jez, here, though, seems to see the value of a pardon. Regardless, His Majesty said he wanted to ensure you knew how your position functions. So...shall we?"

There are many ways to break a mind, Iliana learned.

You didn't have to touch a person to make them feel pain. At least, not anyone sane. Another's screams worked just as well when you couldn't turn your head away from flayed flesh and pouring blood.

"Have you heard of a whipping boy before? It's a common method amongst upper nobility to handle misbehaving kids and trophies with empathy."

Closing her eyes changed little. As did the eventual disappearance of the falling sun. Each sound created a sickening visual that stuck in her mind like a thorn, until she felt pierced and bleeding without ever having been touched. She forgot about the ache in her wrists that faded to numbness, and the weakness of her knees as seconds trickled into hours, with minor breaks filled with sickening silence.

The woman didn't say anything. She didn't beg. She didn't curse. She merely knelt in the center of the room as the tower's master dismantled her.

And when he was eventually done, he smiled. Guards were beckoned to release her chains. The master bent down to collect discarded straps of soft-looking leather as Iliana sank to her knees.

"Now...shall we see where your limits lay? His Majesty gave me a week. Isn't that wonderful?"

Dreams became a refuge as Iliana realized why people threw themselves from the tower.

The first night, she visited Kain. She wasn't sure why--just that she had to see him. To know where he was, what he was doing.

To measure their differences.

There hadn't been much to see. He was traveling again. The camp they set up laid off the edge of a dirt road with no particular signs as to where exactly they were. Her only clue was the distant sign of mountains lingering in two distant horizons.

Iliana watched as they ate and slept, before waking up to a new nightmare.

The second night she chose Callias.

She didn't touch him at first, just watching, before eventually reaching out and startling the merfolk into the realm Koun had created. He took one look at her and--after hesitating--launched into an explanation of where they were and just how long was left of their travels. The previously precious details ran in and out of her mind, slipping through like sand in an hourglass.

Callias paused.

"Are you okay, Iliana?"

She didn't have an answer for that.

The third day was spent alone. Why she got a break, she wasn't sure, just that she did. Iliana slipped in and out of a restless doze, before gripping the fox and following the first string she touched.

She found Lykos.

He'd left the tower, it seemed. She didn't recognize the soft sand and stone walls he stood in, but they weren't the black tower and that was all that mattered. A wooden rod rested in his hand as he drew in a deep, measured breath, before spinning and striking it against his opponent's.

Crack.

There was something mesmerizing about watching him fight. He never slipped, shifting between strike and deflection without pause or hesitation. Crack.

Crack.

Iliana wanted that.

Aran appeared at some point. He approached her with the caution of an experienced tamer, before resting his hands in the air on either side of her face. He didn't try to touch her, just keep her in place as he studied Iliana's face, before letting out a slow sigh.

"I would think he didn't know the price of his actions, but we both know he did. I'm sorry, Iliana. Being the price of change is never pleasant, fun, or fair. And it's rarely deserved."

The fourth. The fifth. The sixth.

And then, suddenly, Aria was there, releasing her hands from dangling chains as numbness dropped Iliana from her useless feet to her tingling legs. She wrapped her arms around herself, noting how the welts tracing her skin ended there. Aria had been right, of course.

No skin had been broken. Nothing permanent etched into her body. Unlike the tower master's "volunteer," Iliana still breathed with ease as Aria attempted to coax her to her feet, before dragging her into her arms and striding out of the room.

What had been the point, she wondered, of any of this?

It was a thought that had sprunt to life in the darkness of the fifth day. Why was she at the tower? What had she done that warranted a different treatment than any defiance before it?

Had she done anything to deserve it?

How could she avoid it again? How could she protect Del without shattering?

Where was the line?

They didn't go back to the menagerie at first. Instead, they primped and preened at the baths, before she was dragged into the dining hall and pushed in front of Zuher once again. He studied her with a thoughtful smile, fingers playing over the stem of his wine glass.

"Come, Pet. I thought you might be hungry after your vacation."

For one evening, she didn't try to reason his mind games. She merely stepped over, knelt where she was told, and ate what she was given. She got sick, after, the rich food settling too heavy in her empty stomach, but Zuher didn't seem to care. He merely watched her with a curl of his lips, before patting her head and beckoning to Aria to take her away.

Whatever that test had been, Iliana must have passed.

The veil that seemed to stretch between her and everything else didn't disappear until she was back in the menagerie, Del in front of her. Unlike Aran--unlike Callias--when he reached for her face his fingers didn't hesitate. They cusped her cheeks beneath his burning touch as his eyes searched her, before something painful flashed between them and he tugged Iliana into a silent hug.

"Let's sleep."

He didn't ask her where she'd been or what had landed her there. Instead, he kept her in his arms as they collapsed back onto the bed. He held her as cried without a word, before stroking her hair and murmuring melodic words in a language she couldn't understand. They sounded pleasant, though.

And when it all was over, she seized his hair and dragged him into a kiss.

She wasn't sure why she did it, just that she did, and that he froze for a solid ten seconds before pulling back and pressing a gentle hand against her chin.

"Iliana, this isn't, we shouldn't--"

"No."

Her simple interruption seemed to stall his brain for a moment as he watched her. Studied her. Then sighed. "This isn't real consent, Iliana. This isn't affection. This is a brea--"

"Please, Del."

He quieted.

She dragged him closer, again, letting those fingers linger between them as she clung to whatever of Del she could reach. His hair felt coarser than she would have imagined. His shoulder tense. There was a different scent in the air than whatever oils they rubbed into her skin. Something earthen.

How did she explain that touching him, being held by him, felt more real than the sting of her skin and the screams in her memories that his low lullaby had quieted?

Did those words even exist?

"There won't be a good moment," she continued. Her voice felt matter-of-fact, hushed, unlike the twisting thorns burning just beneath her skin and lighting it aflame. "No proper confession that you're willing to accept. No commitments. No sureness. But I still want you."

His eyes fell to her lips. She could feel the rapid racing of his heart beneath her hand as his fingers slipped lower, cupping her jaw instead of holding her back.

"I'm going to die, Iliana. Soon. You can't rely on--"

"You're alive right now."

She knew the moment he gave up.

All the tension slid from his shoulders, before resurging as he rolled them on the bed and pressed his lips to hers.

Iliana didn't know what kisses were supposed to be like, not really.

There'd been a dabbling noble-boy at an event when she was younger--one who tugged her into a corner, laid a peck on her lips, then returned to brag to his friends that he'd learned what gutter rat tasted like. Then a girl at a tavern who made suggestive comments that'd flown over Iliana's head, before she was being pulled in and told in no questionable terms what the offer had been.

This wasn't that.

It was a desperation built in months of shared pain. It was the knowledge that each second was precious, and that there were so many words that should have been said, that wouldn't be. It was a flame that built under her skin as Del laughed, then cursed against her lips as his hands fell from her jaw to her neck, then around to her hair as he pressed closer and demanded breath she didn't have.

"No further," he warned her in a taut whisper. "I won't have you in a moment of desperation. You're worth more than that."

She didn't know what to say to that.

So, she kissed him again. And again. And again until he laughed again and pushed her back, tugging her wandering hands together and pressing them above her as he shook his head.

"You make it hard to be good."

"Then don't be."

"Gods, Iliana."

His forehead pressed against hers. Some part of her recognized that she would have been frightened, normally, to be held so firmly. So close. But, she wasn't.

"Another time," Del promised. Something mischievous slipped into his face as he kissed her nose. "When you've rested. And eaten. And when being bad wouldn't make me into someone horrible. This isn't a no. I've given up on that. This is a wait until your 'yes' is real.

"We have time."

Did they?

"Okay."