When we arrived Mrs Zanst was there to greet us, her husband not yet returned from his office at the factory. Attractive and young, I hid a smile as some of the Guard tried not to stare at Mrs Zanst. They had been deprived of female companionship for longer than some of them were used to and she was a lovely sight. Sighing, I dismounted with Chaeron’s aid and was immediately enveloped in a friendly hug by Mrs Zanst.

“It’s such a pleasure to see you again, Lady Rogan.” She smiled widely at me as she stood back to take in my appearance. “I must say you’re looking very well for a young lady who’s been travelling. And without a carriage no less.” She frowned, looking over the Guard.

I shrugged inelegantly, happy to be around someone who didn’t care if I shrugged inelegantly. “I thought a carriage would be more of a hindrance than a help.”

Mrs Zanst didn’t seem to agree but she said no more, clasping my hand in hers as we walked inside, leaving the Guard to their organisation. It would seem there wasn’t enough room in the stables or the mansion for all of them so some would have to venture into the city for accommodation. I rolled my eyes as many eagerly volunteered, knowing that the excitement was due more to finding a bed partner than an actual bed.

“Oh,” I gasped as we stepped into the entrance hall. “Your home is lovely, Mrs Zanst.” And I meant it. Her expression brightened, a little flush of pride cresting her cheeks as we took it in together.

“Thank you, Lady Rogan. I do try.”

In all of the homes of the wealthy I had ventured into, the floors of the entrance hall, hallways in general, were always white and black marble; or, as at the palace, pure white marble with crystalline sparkling under foot. But Mr and Mrs Zanst had forgone the cold marble aesthetic of the wealthy, and instead had beautiful, wide slatted, light wooden polished floors that reflected the light from the stunning but simplistic chandelier that spiralled down from the ceiling in one trim arm. I stared a moment at it, surprised by its originality. It was like a piece of modern art in itself. Careful not to encumber the light, airy quality they had created, there were no drab oil paintings to be found or heavy tapestries, only pale buttercream walls, one of which was adorned with artwork – an actual mural, depicting a brilliantly blurry forest with gorgeous wood nymphs and other charmingly rustic creatures. A few silver mirrors were dotted here and there, wall sconces in the same vein as the chandelier, and flowers of the softest pastels.

“It’s like a fairytale,” I whispered. “Haydyn would love this.”

Mrs Zanst blushed even harder. “Do you really think so?”

I nodded sincerely, giving her arm a friendly squeeze. “You, Mrs Zanst, have a gift for interior design.”

“Oh, I’m pleased you think so. Many of the women here,” her voice dropped to a murmur, “Think my taste unfashionable.”

“To the contrary, your taste is a fashion setter. Wait until we get you back at the palace to decorate Haydyn’s private parlour, Mrs Zanst, then all the ladies will be after you to design their homes for them.”

Wide-eyed, she pulled me into her equally quaint and beautiful parlour. “Do you really think so?”

***

Having inadvertently received a friend for life in the charming Mrs Zanst I felt bad when I tricked her. Desperate for some time alone, to be away from the Guard and the Factory District, which was buzzing with the news of our arrival, I knew I had to make my escape before the neighbours started calling on Mrs Zanst to meet me. Having faked a headache and fatigue from the journey, I was shown to a spectacular guest suite with wonderful views of Ryl. There I hastily wrote a note to Mrs Zanst telling her where I’d gone so she wouldn’t worry, and then threw on a dark cloak, creeping out of the room. I had to hide twice - once in another bedroom and then in the music room on the second floor. I halted at the sound of children squealing and realised the nursery must not be far off. Afraid of being found by an impish child I scurried down the next flight of stairs and then cursed under my breath when I came face to face with the butler.

“May I help you, my Lady?” She bowed, gracefully, the tallest female butler I had ever encountered.

I gulped, thinking fast. “I’m going for a walk. Mrs Zanst suggested I follow the Factory District out to the right to get to the city…”

She frowned, shaking her head. “That can’t be right, my Lady. Mrs Zanst must have meant for you to take a right and then a left once you reach the entrance to Factory District.”

I smiled inwardly. “And that just takes me straight into the city?”

“You can’t miss it, my Lady.”

“Thank you.”

And as easily as that I was out the door. I held my breath, almost skipping as I shot out the driveway and through the gates. As I hurried along, I peered towards the back of the house and saw some of the Guard still organising themselves at the stables. Afraid to be spotted, I took off at a run, no longer caring which of the neighbours saw.

As the wind rushed into my face, tearing my eyes, my skirts fluttering a hindrance around of my legs, I grinned and pushed harder. It felt wonderful, so freeing.

Skidding to a stop at the end of the Factory District, I peered over my shoulder to make sure I wasn’t being followed. I couldn’t see anyone. I smoothed my skirts down and straightened my cloak and began walking sedately towards the city which called to me with its noise and smell. There were still a few hours until night fall, plenty of time to have a look around.

Quite suddenly I found myself in the hubbub of the city, lots of people rushing around as if they had somewhere important to be. In fact, as I gazed around at the rather drab appearance of the city, with its industrial towering factories in the distance and the squab little shops, I realised how different it was to Peza, considering the wares that were created here.

Or so I thought.

Like stepping into an oil painting I found myself gobsmacked when I walked through an arched alleyway. I found myself lambasted by colour as I entered the market square. Everywhere were people and stalls in a multitude of hues, where quiet sellers stood patiently offering help and information. Never before had I seen such serious, hushed sellers. But as I walked around the stalls, my eyes widening every now and then, I realised why. Their products were beautiful, no matter if they were mass-produced – products that sold themselves. I stopped suddenly, drawn to a stall with beaded jewellery. The jewellery I owned was of the finest precious metals and stones, nothing like this. But I fingered a bracelet made with pleated leather; three beautifully painted beads in emerald, aquamarine and rose decorated the end near the clasp. A little bird of silver metal hung between the beads.

I saw my mother taking a bracelet from my hands as a child, pressing a soft kiss to my head and telling me it wasn’t to be played with, but when I was older it would be mine. It had been a leather rope bracelet, no beads, but a little bird had hung from its centre.

“How much?” I asked a little dazed, holding the bracelet up.

The seller smiled gently. “Five coppers, miss.”

Five coppers? That was all. I picked it up, as well as another similar, only it had different coloured beads. Haydyn would like it, I was sure. “I’ll take the two.”

She smiled pleasantly at me again and took the money. She then wrapped the bracelets separately in tissue paper before popping them into a little paper bag for me. I thanked her and walked away, bemused by my impulsive buy. I wasn’t really much of a shopper.

I wandered for a while amongst the glitter and awe of the splendid market and then eyed a confectionary store in indecision. Finally, at the little growl my stomach gave, I shrugged and went inside to buy a cream cake. I took the cake back outside to stand back from the crowds at the corner of the shop where it met a narrow side path between buildings. I could eat my cake in peace here.

Although the cake was good, I couldn’t help feeling a little unsatisfied as I ate it people-watching. It was nowhere near as good as Cooks, I grimaced. I wondered if Valena was eating all my cakes as well as hers. Smiling wryly at the thought, I wiped at a smudge of cream on my lip and readied myself to make my way back to the Zansts. I was lucky to have gotten away for this long. And I just knew I was in for a severe lecture from Wolfe. Perfect.

Just as I made to take a step forward, I heard a scuffle from behind me. My heart spluttered with dread.

But it was too late.

A grimy hand clamped down on my mouth, dirty and sweaty, and my feet left the ground as I was dragged back into the darkness of the alley. I tried to scream against the hand but all that came out was a muffled whine. I beat at the head behind me, trying to wriggle free from the strong arm around my waist.

“Stop it, or I’ll break your neck,” A gruff voice spoke in my ear and I shivered as a decayed breath hit my nostrils. I stilled, feeling the strength in his hold.

“Do it,” someone else said.

How many were there?! I turned to see just as a musky hood came down over my face, drowning me in darkness. Panicked, I began to thrash and beat out at my attackers. More hands clamped down on me, muffled grunts and curses as they tried to lift me off the ground. I was terrified, furious, to be so helpless and vulnerable, with one of my most valuable senses disabled.

The familiar sound of a sword hissing from its scabbard halted us all, and my heart fluttered as one of my captors grunted, “Deal with him.”

One of the Guard! I’d never been so thankful to be followed! Trying to listen to the fight that had broken out, I stupidly let myself be thrown up onto what I assumed was a hard shoulder. Grunts and a shout of pain found my ears. I hoped the officer’s sword had just found one of my captor’s bellies. The clatter of steel hitting stone made me tense. Then all I could hear was flesh smashing into flesh, grunts, groans, hisses of pain.

“Stop or we kill the girl.”

I heard heavy breathing and then silence.

Fearful, I began to squirm now, beating down on whatever body part I could find.

“Stop it, or we will kill your bodyguard!” the voice below me growled as an insolent hand swatted me hard on the bottom. Tears of humiliation sprung in my eyes but I stopped fighting, realising they had both I and the officer in an untenable position. If one of the Guard had let himself be disarmed, then there must be too many of them to fight.

“What will we do with ‘im?” A rough female voice asked from somewhere to my left.

“Bring ‘im. ‘e’ll only send people after us otherwise.”

Realising we were really, truly going to be taken I began to fight again in earnest, taking pleasure in the yelp of pain I produced when I bit what I assumed was an ear through the hood over my head.

“Blood ‘ell! Prick her!”

A sharp, short pain flared in my arm and I cried out. Heat rushed up my arm at a dizzying speed and flooded my brain in a gush of warmth and bright colours. The colours burst like fireworks in the night sky until they faded, leaving only a numbing darkness.

Chapter Eleven

A shaft of light shot up under my eyelids causing a sharp pain to ricochet through my head, eliciting a small moan through my dry lips.

“Rogan?” A familiar voice asked.

I jolted at the voice and then groaned, peeling my eyes open. I turned my head and winced at the cold stone beneath it. A tiny window was the source of the annoying light in another wise dank, cold cellar. I scrambled quickly to a sitting position, grit and dirt pinching my hands. Panic set in as I found Wolfe sitting near me, looking tired and pale; his eyes searching.

“Are you alright?” He asked softly.

I shook my head, trying to get my bearings as I looked around the large room with the low ceiling that had nothing in it but us and a changing screen in the corner. A door made of thick metal bars stood at one end. I felt like I was in a dream. I couldn’t remember how I had gotten here. Flashes of images, of unfamiliar faces, swept through me. I remembered being jostled. And someone trying to feed me. And dreams. I felt like I had been dreaming forever.

“Where are we?” I croaked. My throat felt like it hadn’t been used in a while.

Wolfe sighed and pushed a cup of water to me. I gulped it thirstily.

“Do you remember being taken in the market at Ryl?”

Instant fear shot through my body and I trembled, dropping the cup. “Where are we?” I whispered, searching frantically about now. I could still feel that clammy, dirty hand over my mouth, those hands on my body as they tried to restrain me. “You were the one that followed me?”

He nodded gravely. “We’ve been kidnapped by the Iavii.”

My jaw dropped. That was the last thing I had been expecting. Although, to be honest, I didn’t know what I’d been expecting. The last time I’d been kidnapped it was for my power and I had just assumed this was the same situation. Maybe not. “Those gypsies from Alvernia that have been causing havoc in Javinia?”

“The very ones.” He grimaced. “They drugged us. We’re in Javinia, but we’ve only been out for a few days I think, which means we must be near the border.”

My heart thudded in my chest and I felt sick. “A few days. At the mercy of those people?”

Wolfe’s jaw clenched and he turned away from me in frustration. “Well you would have to defy orders and take off on your own somewhere.”

Heat, angry heat, shot through me, waking me up. “Oh it didn’t take long for the lecture to start, did it, Stovia?!”

“I’m not the one that got us into this mess,” he hissed, gesturing around at the cell. “They have a Dravilec, Rogan. And they’re well-armed and can fight. God knows what else they’ve got!”

“A Dravilec?” I was momentarily thrown by the fact that gypsies would have a mage amongst them, considering there were so few left.