Date: The Late Afternoon of the 3rd Day of the Month of Blossoms, Year 1107 of the Imperial Calendar.
Location: The "Rat's Nest," Deep Slums.
Solitude in a palace is a luxury. Solitude in the slums is a siege.
Aanya sat in the center of the dirt floor, staring at the wooden bar Veer had placed across the door. It was a thick piece of oak, but to her feverish eyes, it looked like a twig holding back an avalanche.
Veer had been gone for an hour.
In that hour, the world outside had woken up. The sun was setting, and the creatures of the dark were stirring.
Through the thin, rotting walls, the sounds of the Lower District filtered in with terrifying clarity.
Crash. A bottle shattering against stone.
Scream. A woman's voice, high and jagged, cut short by a laugh.
Growl. Stray dogs fighting over a scrap of meat.
Every sound made Aanya flinch. She was a raw nerve exposed to salt. In the manor, walls were made of stone and lined with tapestries; they muffled the world. Here, the walls breathed.
She pulled the scratchy wool blanket tighter around her shoulders. She rocked back and forth, a silent rhythm of comfort.
He will come back, she told herself. He promised.
Then, it happened.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
Three heavy blows struck the door.
Aanya froze mid-rock. Her heart hammered against her bruised ribs like a trapped bird.
It wasn't Veer. Veer scratched before he knocked. Veer knew the secret rhythm.
This was a demand.
"Open up!"
The voice was gravelly and impatient. It wasn't Silas, but it belonged to the same species of men—predators who smelled weakness.
Aanya stopped breathing. She stared at the door handle. It was a rusted iron ring.
It began to turn.
Clack. Clack.
The lock held. The heavy oak beam did its job.
"I know you're in there, Rat-Boy," the voice snarled. "I saw you steal that apple. Open up before I kick this door down and take it back."
A heavy shoulder slammed against the wood. The entire shack shuddered. Dust rained down from the tin roof. The bucket in the corner rattled.
Boom.
The terror didn't hit Aanya in the mind; it hit her in the gut.
It wasn't the thief at the door. It was the memory.
Suddenly, she wasn't in the shack. She was back in the mud of the alley. She felt the rain. She saw the boot coming down. She heard the crunch of her own ribs.
They found me, her mind screamed. The monsters found me.
She couldn't scream. Her throat was still turned to stone. She couldn't fight. She was broken.
Instinct took over. The instinct of the prey animal.
Aanya scrambled backward, crab-walking away from the door. She hit the wooden pallet Veer called a bed.
It was raised off the ground by two milk crates. There was a gap underneath—dark, dusty, and tight.
She didn't hesitate.
She dove under the bed.
She dragged her body through the dust and spiderwebs. She curled into the tightest ball her anatomy would allow, pressing herself against the back wall.
Boom. The door shook again. A splinter of wood flew onto the floor.
Aanya clamped her hands over her ears. She pressed her face into the dirt.
Go away go away go away.
She shut her eyes so tight stars exploded behind her eyelids. She was vibrating with terror. She wasn't the daughter of House Kael. She wasn't the Emperor's Consort. She was just meat waiting to be eaten.
"Bah," the voice outside grunted. "Must be out. Useless rat."
One last kick. Thud.
Then, silence.
Footsteps squelched away into the mud. The predator had moved on to easier prey.
But Aanya didn't move. She couldn't. The adrenaline had frozen her muscles. She lay in the dust, covered in gray cobwebs, her hands still clamped over her ears, waiting for the killing blow that never came.
Twenty minutes later.
Tap. Tap. Scrape.
A rhythmic, gentle sound.
A key turned in the lock—Veer had a key for the outside, though the bar was on the inside.
Wait. The bar.
The door creaked, pushing against the oak beam. It opened an inch.
"Aanya?" Veer's voice came through the crack. "It's me. Open the bar."
Silence.
"Aanya?" Panic crept into his tone. "I know you're in there. Open the door."
Still silence.
"Dammit."
Veer didn't wait. He threw his shoulder against the door. The oak beam was strong, but the brackets holding it were rusted.
CRACK.
With a groan of tearing metal, the bracket gave way. The door flew open, banging against the wall.
Veer burst in, his dagger drawn, his eyes wild. He was dripping wet, clutching an apple and a roll of bandages in his other hand.
"Aanya!"
He scanned the room.
The pallet was empty. The blanket was on the floor. The corner with the bucket was empty.
His heart stopped. They took her, he thought. I left her for an hour and they took her.
He dropped the apple. It rolled across the dirt floor.
He stepped further into the room, his chest heaving. He looked for signs of a struggle.
Then, he heard it.
A tiny, high-pitched wheeze. Like a wounded mouse.
He looked at the bed.
He dropped to his knees and peered into the darkness underneath the pallet.
Two violet eyes stared back at him from the gloom. They were wide, unblinking, and filled with a terror so absolute it looked like madness.
She was covered in dust balls. A spider was crawling on her shoulder. Her hands were clamped over her ears.
"Aanya..." Veer whispered, the dagger slipping from his hand.
She didn't recognize him. She flinched as he reached out, pressing herself further into the dirt.
Veer realized then that the girl he had pulled from the alley was gone. The thing hiding under his bed was shattered glass held together by fear.
"It's okay," Veer said, his voice shaking. "The wolves are gone. I'm here."
He reached into the dark to pull her out, but he knew, with a sinking feeling in his gut, that dragging her into the light wouldn't be enough to save her.