“Safe from the Hunt, yes. I’ll select others.” His smile sharpens. “Though what happens to her in the Pen is beyond my concern.”
The Pen. Where they prepare brides for the Hunt. My stomach churns at the thought of what that might mean.
“I want to see her,” I say, sitting up as newfound strength flows through me. “Just once, to make sure?—”
“No.” His voice is winter frost. “Your face stays hidden behind my mask. Always. You’ll watch her from afar, little shadow, nothing more.”
He produces a silk mask from thin air, black as midnight, with a painted smile that mocks my anguish. It dangles between us, innocuous yet terrifying.
“This will be your face now.” Kasaros holds it out. “Your strength. Your prison.”
I reach for it with trembling fingers. The moment I touch it, something inside me fractures—not my resolve—which remains immovable as stone—but something deeper. The boy I was begins to recede, pushed down by something colder and harder.
“And if I change my mind?” I ask, though I already know the answer.
“Then our deal is void.” He shrugs. “And I select the Queen Bride for next year’s Hunt. It’s your choice.”
Flori. I picture her face, her defiant smile, her gentle hands. I picture her dragged through these streets again, this time with no one to fight for her.
I steel myself and lift the mask to my face.
“Good boy,” Kasaros purrs as the silk adheres to my skin like a second flesh. He burns his invisible brand into my chest. “Now rise, Huntsman.”
Three days later, I stand outside the Pen—a looming glass dome nestled between dark spires. Inside, young women kneel in rows, heads bowed in submission. New arrivals are bathed, painted, shown the symbols of the “feminine mysteries” they’ll master.
And there—a flash of blue hair.
Flori sits apart from the others, shoulders rigid with defiance as a stern woman lectures her. Her bottom lip trembles, but no tears fall. She never cries. Not my Flori.
I press my palm against the glass, aching to smash through it, to take her hand and run until we reach the edge of the world.
Instead, I watch from the shadows, my breath fogging the cold surface between us.
“A touching display,” Kasaros materializes beside me, his voice laced with amusement. “Do you think she’d recognize you now?”
I don’t answer. Can’t answer. The mask has sealed itself to my face, a constant reminder of my bargain. Already I feel it changing me, awakening instincts I never knew I possessed.
I could take it off, but it means giving up her safety.
Never.
“Tomorrow, you’ll bring me another bride,” he continues. “A fertile girl is hiding in the eastern villages. Find her.”
I nod, unable to tear my gaze from Flori. My fingers twitch with the urge to reach for her, though I know it’s impossible.
“She doesn’t know you’re alive,” Kasaros says, his words calculated to wound. “She hasn’t spoken your name since arriving. Already forgotten.”
My hand curls into a fist against the glass. He’s lying. He must be.
“Do you know what they’ll teach her in there?” he whispers, leaning close. “Every way to please a man. Every method tobring pleasure. She’ll learn to use that pretty mouth for more than defiance.” He chuckles softly. “By the time she leaves, she’ll be skilled in arts you can’t even imagine.”
Rage boils beneath my skin, but I remain still. This is the price. Her safety for my servitude. My silence for her life.
Inside, a woman yanks Flori to her feet, forcing her to stand before the others. My brave, beautiful Flori lifts her chin, eyes flashing. Even here, even now, she refuses to break.
I made the right choice. I would make it again a thousand times.
“Come, Huntsman,” Kasaros commands. “Your duty awaits. Kill anything in your path.”
