Before she was kidnapped, Seri had loved mornings. She had loved the scent of dew and the lifting of fog, the way early sunlight softened colors and made the plants look new. She loved waking up to a promise of a new beginning.

Not anymore.

Waking hurt. Dragging herself out of bed was a chore. There was nothing to look forward to. Morning was a reminder of another day in which rescue was not coming. She looked outside, and the fog was not beautiful. It was murky and cold.

Still, she dressed. She brushed her hair gently and tried not to wince as chunks of it fell out. Small bumps had broken out over her belly, and day by day they spread. She hated the sight of them. They scared her.

She shoved the fear down and went down the stairs, to the dining room.

Petronille had beaten her to breakfast. Seri found her lifting the lid of the bowls, exclaiming at the meats and fruit, but not touching the food. She almost dropped the lid when she saw Seri.

“G-good morning, Lady Serihilde,” she said.

“Seri, please.” Seri walked inside. “You aren’t eating?”

“I wasn’t sure if we should wait for Brand.”

“He sleeps in. Please, help yourself.”

To reassure her, Seri walked over and picked up a plate. Petronille skittered around the table, marveling over the dishes.

“There are sausages! For breakfast! And eggs, too!”

“And porridge and fruit and bread,” Seri pointed out.

“What’s the occasion?” Petronille asked.

“It’s a normal breakfast,” Seri said.

Petronille ran to the plates and began to eagerly scoop up the food. Seri realized, sharply, that she had taken for granted that there would always be food on the table. She’d become used to having meat for every meal.

Seri picked up a bowl and contemplated eating porridge with a little light fruit, as she would have done, at her father’s house. She removed the lid from the pot and saw the steam rise. Her stomach roiled. Seri put the bowl down and went to where the sausages were and began piling them on her plate. Lately, it seemed, all she could stomach was meat. Even foods she once adored, like apples stewed with cinnamon, revolted her.

She cut into the sausages.

“This is delicious,” Petronille said. “And such beautiful plates. And the flowers. Brand told me that you tend to the garden.”

“It gives me something to do,” Seri said. “It’s one of the things you learn. You find something to keep busy, to pass the time. I came from a small household, and it seemed there was always something to do. But here it’s different. There’s a lot of free time.”

“It sounds wonderful.”

“This is not a vacation. We’re prisoners.”

“Yes, of course,” Petronille said, looking down. “I’m sorry.”

Once again, Seri got the impression that Petronille was frightened of her, almost more so than of Brand. She had no idea what to say to this. She ate into her sausage and had to restrain herself from wolfing it down. She was so hungry. Every day, she was hungry.

“So, Petronille, what did Brand talk to you about last night?” Seri asked.

“Call me, Nel, please,” she said nervously. “That’s what my friends call me.” She ate a spoonful of egg. “Brand asked me about my family and what he could do to make me more comfortable and what sorts of things I liked. He was very nice.”

“He didn’t ask if you were a virgin?”

Nel looked stricken. “No. Nothing like that. Nothing untoward.”

Seri frowned.

“I mean…” Nel said, uncomfortably. “I am, if that’s… if it matters.”

“I’m sorry,” Seri said. “It’s just, he asked me that, my first night here. It was… not a fun conversation. I just wanted to know if he did or said anything to make you uncomfortable.”

“No. He was a perfect gentleman. He did show me—”

“What?”

“—his illusions.”

“Did that bother you?”

“No. I loved them. I told him they were life-like. He seemed pleased.” She looked at Seri closely. “Was that wrong of me?”

“To like his illusions? No. I find them unsettling, but if you have a different opinion, why would that be wrong? I’m just… I’m concerned, that’s all. Brand is not… he’s not a gentleman, you understand. He has taken liberties with women he likes.”

“Taken liberties?”

“He’s slept with them,” Seri said bluntly.

“Oh.” Nel looked down.

“In his head, he thinks of it as seduction. That the women he sleeps with are willing, eager partners. I’m just afraid, if you’re too sweet, too obliging, he may take advantage of you.”

“Has he… with you?”

“No,” Seri said. “I’ve made my feelings clear.”

“And he hasn’t forced you?”

“That’s not his game. He needs you to agree to it.”

Nel nodded. “So I should tell him upfront that I don’t want to sleep with him.”

“You can, but… he will push you, Nel. He will try to charm you, to persuade you. Some days he will be kind and generous, some days he will angry and mean. It can be hard to resist his will. But you must do it or you will find yourself agreeing to things you never would otherwise.”

Nel nodded at her, wide-eyed.

Seri sighed. She’d frightened her. Again.

“I’ll show you around the tower,” Seri said. “But first, I’m going to check on Gretchen. She should be down by now.”

“Is there a time when we all eat?” Nel asked.

“No. Breakfast is served at 6:00 and left on the table until 10:00. Brand eats closer to ten, I eat closer to six. But I try to keep an eye on Gretchen. She’s not… she’s not always well.”