Wynter sat on the edge of Melantha's bed as the Witch made her way around the room. He stared at his hands, which were clasped in his lap. Melantha hadn't spoken a word to him since she brought him upstairs.

Wynter didn't look up. He didn't move. Perhaps if he was silent, Melantha would forget he was there. Five hours. What she could do to him in five hours... What she could make him do... His chest tightened with anxiety and fear.

He stared at his hands, ignoring everything around him. He didn't look at the large four-poster mahogany bed, covered in burgundy sheets. He didn't look at the dozens of windows, which were partially hidden behind russet colored drapes.

He didn't look at the glittering chandelier overhead, or the ornately crafted golden candle fixtures on the black walls. He didn't look at the vanity Melantha sat in front of. He didn't watch as she brushed her long raven hair, before letting it fall against a fur lined, ruby robe.

Wynter swallowed, his hands more fascinating than any of the rich possessions around him. "Do you know why I chose you?" Melantha asked, her lilting voice surprisingly gentle.

"Why?" Wynter whispered.

"Because you intrigued me. Your people do nothing for you, yet you're willing to do anything for them. You play with ungrateful, spoiled children. You give them gifts conjured by magic. You serve your subjects with each breath you draw, but no one has lifted a finger to help you since I stole you away. Yet, here you are, still giving of yourself to help others."

Melantha twisted and Wynter felt her gaze on him. He still didn't look up. "Why?" She asked. "Why do you do that?"

"Because I care."

"You care? Explain."

"I care about the happiness of my people. It is my duty to serve them and make sure they have all that they need. If it's in my power to make things better for them, then I should do so."

"The females you are so desperately protecting are not your people. They aren't even your friends." Melantha smiled. "They are eating their fill of sandwiches right now while you sit here, stiff with dread. While they sit there with full bellies, I can do whatever I like with you."

"You could do that anyway," Wynter muttered.

"I could, yes. But, it's much nicer when you agree. That way, we both know what is expected and you won't make things difficult for me so I don't have to punish you." Melantha stood, robes swishing around her feet as she moved towards him. She hooked a finger beneath his chin. "You intrigue me, Prince. I admire your selflessness. There was a time when I shared it. But you will learn as I did, that it is better to look after yourself than others."

"I'm not like you," Wynter replied, keeping his voice cold and flat. "It doesn't matter what you do to me. I will always serve those who need me."

"Then it is a good thing I need you, isn't it?" Melantha laughed. Wynter fought the urge to shudder. "Five hours. What shall I do with you?" She raked her fingers through his unbound hair, lifting it and letting it fall over his shoulder. She flashed her pointed teeth. "I have so many ideas."

Wynter swallowed hard, his eyes burning. It was all he could do to remain still. To remain breathing. To keep himself from shaking. "We'll start with this." Melantha stepped away from him, retreating to a far corner of the room. When she returned, she held a bowl of shiny red cherries. "Are you hungry, Prince?"

"No," he lied.

Melantha smiled, her black eyes sparkling. "Yes, you are. You bargained for six meals in the dungeons. You bargained for yourself, as well as those females. You are hungry. Here." She held out a cherry. "Eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"I know the look of hunger in a person's eyes." Melantha sat beside him, tossing the cherry into her own mouth. It was seedless apparently. She never spit out a pit. "I shared it for many years. I saw it reflected in the eyes of my fellow slaves." She held out another cherry. "Eat. I won't allow my pet to waste away."

Pet. His stomach curdled at the word. Pet. Her pet. Was that what he was now? "I won't let you feed me."

Melantha barked a harsh laugh. "And why is that?"

"You know enough about our customs to understand why."

"Really?" Melantha tilted her head, watching him. Wynter studied his hands again. "Do you think you have a mate, Wynter? Do you think there will someday be a male or female who will want to feed you to show their devotion? Their love?"

Wynter didn't reply. The burning in his eyes grew hotter still. "Do you think that your mate would want you when they learned of what you've done here? Do you think anyone will want you after this?" Melantha ate another cherry, still offering one to him. "I can tell you from experience, Prince. No one will ever want you. No one will want to share your bed. Your touch. Not when they learn the truth."

Melantha stroked his hair again. Wynter flinched, despite himself. "Poor beautiful Prince," she cooed. "You could have had anyone you wanted. You might have had that pretty little female you're so fond of, if you were actually brave enough to meet her."

Wynter's heart faltered as memories rose unbidden. He saw a flash of crystal blue eyes, hair darker and far prettier than Melantha's, and a pair of red, round lips. He caught a glimpse of the smile he'd been awestruck by. He recalled her scent, peppermint and vanilla.

"Should I bring her to you, Prince?" Melantha laughed. "What would you do if I did? Would you tell her the truth and hope she'll look past what you've done? Or would you ignore her presence and watch her from afar, as usual?" Melantha leaned closer. "Do you think she is your mate?"

"No."

"Eat." Melantha moved the cherry closer to his lips. "No one will want you. Not even her. There is no need to save yourself for anything anymore." Wynter's breath shook and he blinked back stinging tears. "Or, if you wish to be ungrateful, I'll take away the food I gave your fellow prisoners."

Wynter clenched his jaw to keep it from trembling. Melantha's patience was wearing thin, he knew. He pictured the beautiful, sweet face as he leaned forward and accepted the cherry. It was bitter on his tongue. He made himself swallow. He made himself accept the next one Melantha offered him.

And the next.

And the next.

And the next.

And the next.

And the next.

Each one he ate seemed to scrape away a piece of his very soul. So he focused on the face in his mind. He didn't let it fade until Melantha set the bowl aside at last. She slipped her hand beneath his shirt, running her wicked nails down his back. A tear managed to roll down his cheek.

"You made things difficult for me," Melantha sighed. "I'm afraid I'll have to punish you before we go any further."

Wynter gritted his teeth, knowing what would come next. Her nails gouged through his skin as she ripped down, sending waves of pain lancing through his spine. Wynter didn't cry out, but fisted his hands atop the sheets. Sticky warmth coated his skin. Melantha pulled her hand away and slowly licked the blood, his blood, from her nails.

"Now, you know what to do." Melantha rolled her hand with a smile. Wynter's heart beat unevenly as he stood, pulling his bloodstained shirt off and unlacing his pants.

◦═══✦═══◦

Time dragged by, each day more slowly than the last. Mikael sat in the library, staring listlessly out the window. There were books and maps spread across the table before him, along with a few bottles of stiff alcohol, though he'd barely touched those. The door opened, catching his attention.

Seren Marzena entered and drifted closer to him. "The Boys are heading to the Peregryn training grounds. They want you to come with them." Mikael shook his head, closing his eyes. "You should do something active. You can't just sit here for days on end."

Seren moved around the table, halting at his side. She crouched, resting scarred hands atop his arm. "I miss her too, Mikael. We all do. We're all worried and we're all picking our brains for ways to find her, and everyone else. But sitting here and staring out that window won't help anyone."

Mikael massaged his forehead with a weary sigh. "I know. I know I'm not helping anyone, but..."

Seren rubbed his arm soothingly. "It's all right. I know how you're feeling. I know how hopeless everything seems. I know how fierce your instincts are, and how overwhelming your emotions have become. It's natural to feel this way. You just can't give in to those feelings. You need to stay active. Stay prepared. Stay focused. Don't let yourself waste away, gradually giving up on everything."

Mikael closed his eyes and nodded. "All right. I'll go." He rose, then knit his brows. "Where is Azriel? I haven't seen him since you arrived."

Seren's answering smile was taut and didn't quite reach her eyes. "The Autumn Court. Rhys gave him permission to help Eris."

"Help Eris with what?"

Seren lowered her gaze. "Things I prefer not to know about." She gave a dry laugh. "I shouldn't be laughing at this, but I can't help it. It's so...strange. Eris and Azriel used to hate each other with a passion. Ever since Eris helped him rescue me, there's been some level of respect between them. Dare I even say friendship? And now..."

"Now they're murder partners," Mikael finished for her.

"Yes. They...kill and torture people together."

Mikael grimaced. "I don't think any of my friends would do that with me."

"Nyx would."

Mikael inclined his head. "I suppose we'll find out if that's true when we learn Melantha's location."

"I suppose so." Seren pulled him into a brief hug. "Now, you should get going." Mikael nodded and left the library, releasing a tense breath as some of his anxiety vanished.

◦═══✦═══◦

Estelle ran her thumb over her family crest. She could no longer sense the magic within the pendant. It had been stifled, like all of her other magical resources. She supposed she was lucky to even have the pendant. Estelle dropped it and pulled her second necklace out from beneath her leathers.

It had been a Solstice and birthday gift from Mikael two years ago. She examined the musical note and the star shaped diamonds around it. It had been so long since she last sang. Since she last painted. Since she read. Since she did anything she found enjoyable.

Estelle leaned her head back against the stone wall, readjusting her wings into a more comfortable position. Venelia was huddled close to her, stealing whatever warmth she could from Estelle's body and the wing that was tucked around her.

Venelia curled her hand into a fist and held it up to her lips as she coughed. "Is there any water left?" She rasped.

Evren nodded and pushed a bucket towards her. Venelia cupped her hands in the scant offering and drank. Estelle stroked a shadow as she peered over her shoulder. Wynter was in his corner, curled into a fetal position against the wall.

He hadn't made another bargain with Melantha since the last one, although they continued to receive better looking and slightly larger portions of food than before. Melantha didn't seem to always require bargains or trades though. She still summoned Wynter at least once, sometimes twice, and occasionally three times a day. And he was usually gone for several hours.

When he returned, he was silent and always hid himself in the corner. No one mentioned the shameful flush that filled his cheeks, or the sweat that gleamed on his skin, or the disgustingly apparent scents that clung to him.

Estelle grimaced, closing her eyes and pressing a palm to her forehead. "Does your head still hurt?" Elain asked. Estelle nodded. "Why didn't you mention it? You should drink too."

"I have drank. It didn't help." Estelle sighed, not opening her eyes. "And it's just a headache. Some of us have bigger problems. There's no reason for me to complain." Elain raised no protest.

Estelle heard a quiet scuffle and opened her eyes. Wynter had receded further into his corner. Venelia coughed again, shivering against Estelle. Estelle tightened her wing around her friend. A few of the shadows had managed to make their way onto Venelia's arms. She smiled faintly at them, and another cough wracked her body.