Lilia Cortova had known Hell, but none compared more so than the last six months of her life.

Since the unfortunate turn of events at the solstice bonfire the past summer, she had been bruised and battered, tortured, and tormented.

But she did not break.

For Cassandra, she had stayed strong; for her sister, she had held it together.

But as she sat there staring at the contract laid out in front of her, Cass was going to be her undoing.

Chained at her wrists and ankles once the guards came to retrieve her from her cell that morning, Lilia assumed the lordling wanted another meeting to 'talk' and 'understand each other better,' when she knew it just another moment to gawk and sneer as her like all the others surrounding her since her arrival. He had been very forward within his meetings as of late, offering personal information and insights that Lilia had no place in knowing, and she made herself consider what would happen when he toed the line that had been so solidly drawn between them.

So, to prepare for another sit-down with Lord Andro Millian, she steeled herself and whittled her wits to the point that seemed to amuse him the most during their time together, and held her head high as the guards pushed her through the door to his study.

But it was not Lord Millian waiting for her behind the desk when she entered.

"You're looking well, Lil," Baz sneered from his chair, his feet propped upon the ornate wooden desk, barely glancing at her as she stopped where she stood. The door behind her slammed shut, and she knew the guards remained beyond it—as with her meetings with Andro, they wouldn't enter again until someone from within opened it. They never entered the Lord's personal chambers and rooms until they were told to do so.

If the irons weren't around her ankles, she would have lunged for him—if the shackles weren't on her wrists, she would have strangled him. But she could do neither of these things, and so she held her ground.

And stared.

She stared at the man who had taken everything from her through betrayal and treachery and dared to show his face without a flinch of remorse.

Realizing she wasn't going to deign to respond, Baz finally glanced up to look at her, his blue eyes showing nothing more than pure sadistic amusement.

"You're not even going to say hello?" he purred with a sly grin.

"What do you want?" was all she could muster, despite the list of curses and threats she wanted to throw at his sneering face.

Shrugging slightly, he motioned to the chair before him. "Ever so ready to return to your cell, then? Lord Millian must treat you better than I expected."

"Why are you here?" she asked, remaining at her spot by the door. "Does Andro even know you're sitting at his desk?"

The look he gave her insinuated Lord Andro did, in fact, not know Baz was there, but something told her he would soon enough. Baz, on the other hand, seemed unfazed by any urgency to proceed with the true purpose of their conversation. Instead, he cast his attention to the nails of his right hand, picking at them with the other. "It would seem Lord Millian and I have some unfinished business to attend to, as he's housing my Second who has deserted her command."

"How dare you?" she accused, taking a quick step forward, but she almost tripped as she forgot about the chains around her ankles.

Baz merely smirked in delight as he watched her suffer.

And so Lilia had to sit there, her throat parched, worrying at her thumbnail on her right hand to keep from shaking as she stared at the contract that was to be her undoing.

"You shouldn't bite your nails, you know—it's very unbecoming," Baz mused as he watched her from the other side of the desk.

"You sound just like Cass," she murmured as she glared at him.

He smirked knowingly before he brought a hand down and tapped a finger on the papers before them. "With this document, your name, title, and position shall be forsworn. Every asset that once belonged to Lady Lilia Cortova will be handed to her Heir, and should you return to Lathos, the punishment will be death."

The gleam in Baz's eyes was enough for Lilia to want to pluck them out. Slowly. With her fingernails.

"Why not just kill me outright?" Lila snarled, finally clenching her fists tightly in her lap. "It would save you the useless paperwork."

"Believe me, Lilia, that was my first choice, but from what I've been told, it seems Lord Millian has grown quite fond of you, even after what happened at the solstice. So, seeing as I still have use for him, and you..." He shrugged slightly. "This was my form of a peace offering."

Lilia would not ask for more information because she knew he wouldn't tell her. Instead, she returned her stare to the document before her. It had already been signed by one Lord Sebastian Gaylen and bound to be witnessed by one of the many Magistrates he had on his payroll. A part of her wondered why he even bothered getting her legitimate signature in the first place, but deep down, she knew, and knew it had nothing to do with her.

"What of Cass?" she inquired quietly as her dark eyes met his. Surely her sister had no knowledge of this. There's no way she would ever allow it if she'd known.

She hoped.

"You're the deserter, Lilia, and only you. As your Heir, she will inherit all you have forfeited, and none of the taint you have brought to the Cortova name."

His tale spun deep, apparently. Her fists clenched tighter, her fingernails breaking the skin of her palms. "If you hurt her..."

Baz leaned forward to brace his forearms on the edge of the desk. "Lil, what kind of monster do you take me for?"

Oh, the answers she had for that inquiry, but instead, Lilia leaned forward as best as she could, meeting him eye to eye. "The kind that would manipulate anyone around him for his own personal gain, regardless of the time investment he would need to commit."

Something unreadable flashed across Baz's eyes. "Believe me when I say this, Lilia, but the only reason you're still alive is because of your sister."

She bared her teeth at the audacity of his claim. "When she finds out—"

"But she won't," Baz snapped, standing from his chair. "That's the sub-clause of the contract, Lilia."

Her gaze shifted down to the contract, but she could find no additional text stating the same. When she looked back up to him in question, Baz smirked at her efforts.

"No, you won't find this one in writing. This one is my personal promise."

He walked around the desk to stand in front of her chair. "It's been months since she's heard from you, Lil, and the time has been very trying for Cassandra. Maintaining the illusion of your desertion has been a harrowing feat, and one I would never care to repeat."

It took every ounce of Lilia's energy not to flinch as he moved to brace his hands on the arms of her chair, caging her in. "If you so much as breathe in Cassandra's direction, I will deem her the deserter's accomplice, and she will lose everything."

"Even you?" she challenged, keeping her voice level.

Baz didn't waver in his response. "I will be the one to slit her throat myself."

The color drained from Lilia's face. Because she knew he would, too.

The arrogant smirk returned to Baz's lips. "So, we're understood, then?"

Lilia's blood was boiling as she was led back to her cell within the dungeons, but something didn't seem right as she approached with the guards surrounding her. Years of training honed her instincts, and she sensed someone waiting within her cell before she even entered.

It wasn't who she was expecting, but she still stopped walking when she saw what else waited for her through the cell's door.

A handmaiden, much younger than she was, stood next to a wooden tub full of steaming hot water. Her eyes were drawn down toward the floor, her hands folded in front of her as if it would make her presence smaller. And behind her, lying on Lilia's small cot of a bed, was a dress of the finest black velvet.

"What's the meaning of this," one guard asked from over Lilia's shoulder. Evidently, they weren't expecting her to be there either.

The handmaiden lifted her eyes slightly, and despite her efforts, her voice stuttered. "L-Lord Millian wants to see the Lady."

"She's no Lady," the other guard sneered but pushed Lilia into the cell all the same.

"Make it quick," the first guard ordered after his eyes surveyed the scene one last time, and he shut the cell door once they both exited, locking it with a key as they lingered outside.

Lilia watched the young woman, but she kept a safe berth from the assassin, motioning toward the tub with a gentle, "Please."

She could do for a bath, Lilia realized, as she disrobed before the handmaiden, any sense of modesty lost a long time ago. Easing into the scalding water, a slight hiss escaped her lips as the heat touched her skin, and the handmaiden began scrubbing her body without another word.

Lilia watched the servant intently, but the woman gave her no sign as to what the Lord wanted with her. Whenever she had been asked to meet with him in the past, it was never after a bath, nor was she offered a new dress. She'd most likely be wasting her breath in trying to ask for an explanation, and she would see the Lord soon enough, so Lilia allowed the handmaiden to rub her raw, wash her hair, and help her dress.

The dress itself was made of soft black velvet, scooped at the neck with long sleeves, fitted through her waist, and falling to her ankles. The inside, however, was made of the softest silk Lilia had felt in years, and the nostalgic memories of her life long since gone flooded her mind in a depressing rush of emotion.

She was given no shoes to wear—the Lord clearly didn't want to allow anything that might be made into a projectile weapon, and it had been so long since she wore anything on her feet, she found she didn't mind the oversight.

She allowed the handmaiden to brush out her long, dark hair and tried her hardest to resist purring at the feeling of it against her scalp. She was barely finished before the guards opened the door again without a warning. Their looks demanded that enough was enough, and it was time to go. Lilia would have protested, but the glances they gave her in the dress she wore made her realize there would be plenty of time to protest later, and the sooner she was out of their proximity, the better.

Their stares continued to roam over her body as the small group made their way towards the Lord's study, but as she was about to turn the corner, the handmaiden made a small sound and gestured in the opposite direction.

"Not tonight, my Lady," she whispered. "The Lord wants to see you privately."

Lilia swallowed as she led them down a new hallway—one she had never been down before, and as they approached their destination, she knew there was good reason for it.

The handmaiden had brought her directly to Lord Millian's personal quarters.

With a gentle knock on the door, a voice inside bid them to enter. The small girl pushed the door open, and Lilia's eyes widened at the sight before her.

This was not a meeting—this was a dinner.

The guards all but tossed her in the room when they realized what was happening, and the handmaiden, having completed her mission, closed the door behind her once she gave Lord Millian a respectful bow. It wasn't until they were gone that the Lord rose from his chair at a small table set for two.

"Lady Cortova—" he started, but Lilia quickly cut him off.

"Unfortunately, that title is no longer mine to hold," she informed him bitterly as she took a cautious step towards the seat across from him, and the Lord gave her a knowing nod.

"Yes, Lord Gaylen informed me of that unfortunate turn of events. My condolences." He bowed his head slightly as he returned to his seat as if he truly meant it, but there was darkness in his eyes as they met hers.

"You knew he was here?" she inquired, halting her approach.

"Only too late."

Lilia had to roll her eyes and look away.

He must have sensed her agitation, for his voice softened. "I am not your enemy, Lilia."

She glared at him slightly, more so because of the use of her name. "You could have fooled me, Andro."

He held her gaze curiously. "Has someone touched you within my walls?"

She hugged herself with her velvet-clad arms and looked anywhere but at him. Or at the welcoming table spread with various foods and drinks. No, she would not divulge to him the details of what she endured in Lathos, or of the looks and sneers she received since she'd been within Thuria.

She felt him watching her. The eyes of the guards were something she was used to, but the gaze from the Lord—it was as if he was looking through her, into her, beyond the masks and armor.

It disappeared the moment she looked up to call him out on it, as he leaned back in his chair, his powerful arms crossing against his muscled chest. "If you recall, I was not the one who tried to poison you at the Midsummer festival."

Lilia swallowed. Was this another trap? A test? Did Baz's threats extend over her conversations with the Lord? If she ever hinted at his involvement in her attempt, and word made its way back to him, would Cass's life be forfeit? The room suddenly felt very hot, and Lilia's stomach was in a knot.

As if he could sense her inner turmoil, Lord Andro sighed slightly. "My walls are safe to you, Lilia. Besides, are you familiar with the old adage 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend'?"

Lilia perked her brow. "But you just told me you weren't my enemy."

"Correct, I'm not... but Sebastian Gaylen is."

Lilia looked at the Lord a moment longer, and he again motioned to the chair before him.

With her head high, Lilia softly padded across the floor to the Lord's table, slowly sitting in the chair he offered and faced him, her back straight and shoulders square.

Baz may have taken away her title, but she would always be a Lady.

And it was that Lady who held the silver-gray gaze of the Lord sitting across from her.

"I'm listening."