"Calayne Niemi," Pascal declared as he sat down with a flourish across from her, an elegant square mahogany table set between them. On the table was a cup of tea, a piece of paper with neat, cursive script, a stamp with a seal, and a fancy, crystalline pen. The sunlight streamed through the huge ceiling windows above them.

Astra crossed her legs and arms and glared. At least her identity wasn't compromised. Just her freedom. The irony in that made her want to laugh.

"It's so wonderful to catch a young wraith," Pascal commented as he got settled. His burned hair had been trimmed, though, Astra noted with satisfaction, his hair was now so short he was very close to being considered bald. "There's less and less every year."

"I wonder why," Astra responded drily.

"Regardless, the city guard caught you breaking the law." Pascal outstretched his hand, and the guard that had been standing in front of the door behind her stepped forward to hand him a manila folder. He opened the folder, revealing sheets upon sheets of legal information. Pascal pulled out a single sheet and scanned it. "Official Wraith Ban of Auxerre: wraiths of ice, fire, or air shall not be permitted entrance into Auxerre under any circumstances. Should such an individual be captured, he or she shall be jailed for a minimum of twenty years." He raised his eyebrows at her. She raised a single eyebrow back.

"Are you expecting me to beg you to not send me to prison?" she inquired. Pascal didn't deign to answer and instead looked down and continued reading.

"However, the individual may have the choice to choose between incarceration or service within the indentured army."

Astra snorted. So all the people she'd seen in the huge sitting room yesterday were wraiths.

"Is 'slave' too ugly a word for the government?" She lounged across the table, resting her head on her fist and laughed. "I haven't been here that long, but I get the feeling this entire operation is being kept hush-hush. Obviously because slavery is illegal and has been illegal. And obviously because His Majesty and the rest of you all are terrified of Solano even if you'd never admit it. But I do wonder why you need an army of wraiths. And why now? Why not just kill us all? The royal family certainly wasn't averse to that a few decades ago." She shrugged at Pascal's silence and impassive expression. "I suppose that's for you to know and for me to find out."

Well aware of the guard bristling behind her, she picked up the crystalline pen and began twirling it with her fingers. With its rounded edges, it would make a terrible weapon, but if it came down to it, it was better than nothing. The thought of weapons reminded her of the weapons the city guards had stripped away from her. She'd have to get her hands on some new blades, and perhaps start scouting out where they could have tossed her throwing knives.

Pascal continued on reading as if she had never spoken. "And so by the decree of his Royal Majesty, you have been given the generous offer to choose between either jail time of a minimum of twenty years with good behavior, or to serve in the indentured army of Auxerre for a minimum of ten years with good behavior. Should you choose to serve in the army, you'll receive amenities in the form of food, shelter, and clothing, as well as access to physicians should you need them." Pascal smiled thinly. "Make your decision now, Calayne." He pushed the sheet of paper in front of her. The material was expensive and the seal of Auxerre was embossed at the bottom left corner.

Astra glanced downwards to read the text.

I agree to concede my free-will and willfully submit myself to the indentured army under the rule and command of Auxerre.

In the fine print below, the document detailed the circumstances of being in the army, including the restriction of wraith powers against guards and other Auxerran citizens.

She kept her eyes on the document as she continued musing aloud. "I also wonder what exactly happens to the wraiths that you do let go after their contract ends. I wonder if they actually go free. Or maybe you let them go, and then you hunt them down again like dogs."

She twirled the pen once more, and then picked up the cup of tea to slowly take a sip. Pascal's eyes followed her every move. As she lowered the cup from her mouth, she flicked her wrist, drenching the document with the remainder of the tea in the cup. The liquid soaked the paper, turning it dark and suctioning it to the table. Astra set the empty cup down with a thump before saying coldly, "I choose neither option."

Pascal was quick to offer. "Then the third option is execution."

"How grandiose. Would you chop my head off now or later?" Astra gave Pascal a smile of teeth. The Captain gave a nod at the guard behind her. Astra turned, finding that the guard had hefted an ax over his shoulder. She pressed her lips together to hold back what would have been an embarrassing yelp of terror. For all her talk, she had not expected the bloodletting to begin already.

Pascal gestured toward her with a flourish of his fingers. "Your choice." Astra studied the marble-tiled ground. What a shame it would be to see her blood staining those shining white and gray tiles. What a shame it would be to rot in a prison cell, a collar locked about her neck. Or was it worse still to be a slave with an invisible collar, but a collar nonetheless? Was it shameful that there was a small, tiny part of her that wanted to choose the coward's path? The ax glinted in the dim light. But the small, tiny part of her was suppressed without even a fight—she would never forgive herself if she ended her life in captivity.

In the end, there was no choice. The indentured army held the best options for escape. She would serve this army then. She would find weaknesses within the guards, weaknesses within the castle. She would find weapons, slaughter her way out of this castle if necessary, and then she would be able to leave once more. It was like Varaly all over again, only, she vowed to herself, she would be braver this time. Take control for herself, and for the opportunities that would be lying in wait.

Astra clicked the crystalline pen open and signed the wet document, careful not to let the inked tip rip the paper, before Pascal stamped the document with the red seal. Her fake name, Calayne Niemi, glistened black and then slowly turned into splotches as the water carried away the ink. The paper bled red and black. A stray thought had her comparing the colors to her soul.

She set the pen down slowly, and Pascal smiled. "Excellent."

•

They tossed her into a huge room with the other slaves after Pascal had reviewed over the rules and regulations regarding her place within the army. The room they were all in was a repurposed bunker that held black fighting mats, sparring rings, and racks of blunt practice weapons. But few slaves were practicing at all. The majority of the wraiths were playing cards or chatting near the walls of the facility, including the female Astra had talked to the last night—Jemma, who immediately came bounding up to her when she saw her.

"Hey!" She greeted. Now that she knew everyone enslaved was a wraith, Astra was able to pick out the fire wraith heritage in Jemma's features. In case she could summon flames, she kept carefully away from touching the female's skin. "I knew you'd be here. You should come play cards with me and Ciril and Anja." Behind her, two people, a male and a female similar in age to Jemma, waved.

She was about to voice her acceptance to join the group when a dark shadow covered her—a huge male with tattoos covering his forearms had walked over to her. He rumbled, "Brawl with me." Jemma winced.

"This is Iker," she explained, frowning at the huge male who was easily over six feet tall. He was bald and had torn off the sleeves of his shirt so that his immensely impressive biceps were visible. "He brawls against everyone in the army at least once, usually when they first join up. He doesn't take 'no' for an answer." Astra had been prepared to win a few games of cards and keep an eye on the guards and the few wraiths that were practicing at the same time. It would've been a perfect opportunity to start memorizing the guard shift. But perhaps this was a better opportunity. She would have an excuse to get to know some of the other wraiths and figure out a way to escape quicker. Besides, she could always talk to Jemma's friends some other time.

Astra eyed the muscles that rippled from Iker apprehensively and then, for the sake of seeming friendly and concerned, asked Jemma, "Will he crush me?" The female pursed her lips.

"He has brawled everyone in this room at least once. And none of them are yet worse for wear." Considering that some of the wraiths near the walls looked like they had never lifted a sword or thrown a punch in their life...

"I accept your challenge." She held out a hand for Iker to shake. "Calayne." By the widening of Jemma's eyes, it was clear that this was the first time she'd heard her name. The huge man's hand dwarfed hers as he shook it, nearly crushing it. Astra discreetly shook off her hand once he'd let go. She asked, "Are you ready?" In response, Iker flexed his arms and gave her and Jemma an unnecessary display of his underarm hair at the same time. She raised her eyebrows in amusement while Jemma fake gagged.

Astra swept her arm toward the black fighting mats. "Then after you."

"Good luck," Jemma called after her.

Iker moved with an unparalleled sort of grace despite his huge size as he made his way to the mat. Astra followed after him, rolling up the sleeves of the gray shirt as she went. And when she reached the edge of the mat, she stopped to roll up her pants. The flowy and loose material would only get in the way. Nearby, the few wraiths that had been sparring or training on their own had stopped and was beginning to form a circle around her and Iker. A tradition indeed.

She studied the different wraiths that circled around while she stretched. Three males and one female, excluding Iker. If she had to guess from their physical features... three fire wraiths and one ice wraith.

"Little girl," Iker called as he crooked a finger at her. Astra snorted and tossed her hair over a shoulder before stepping onto the mat. Iker came at her immediately, his corded arm going so fast that Astra knew he'd knock her out in one hit if he landed a strike. She ducked and danced out of Iker's follow-up strike. The male grunted. Despite his grace, he was slow to turn, and Astra's arm blurred as she struck—

He caught her hand, sending a shockwave through her arm by the sudden stop. Good gods. Instincts had her immediately trying to pull her hand away, but his grip was unrelenting. The male grunted, and then flung her to the ground.

Her body weight crushed her arm, and Astra cursed as she abandoned checking her arm for rolling away as Iker's arm slammed into the ground where she had been just moments before. Vibrations radiated through the mat from his strength.

She scrambled to her feet as quickly as possible, favoring her right arm. It looked fine, but hurt like hell. No doubt bruises would mottle the skin soon. But bruises had never stopped her from throwing a punch.

She shook off her arm, sending tingles of pain as the bones she'd landed on groaned in protest. Then she raised both arms and settled back into a fighting stance. A distance away, she could see Jemma watching her, her teeth wearing through her lips with worry. Astra huffed a breath. If she couldn't win this brawl, then how could she ever expect to win against the dozens of elite trained guards and escape?

She was about to strike again when Iker stood tall, his powerful arms relaxed at his side, and nodded at her. "Good," he said. And then he began to walk off the mat. The group of wraiths that had circled around the fighting mat were still silent and parted to let him through.

"What?" Astra demanded. "What the hell was that? You can't just challenge me and then leave in the middle of it." Iker turned around to look her in the eyes, his amber orbs burning into her blue ones before he turned away once more. And what was that look supposed to mean?

She stalked forward to grab the male by the back collar, but the four wraiths before her closed his path, blocking her, their own hands in fists and a warning upon their faces. Her lips curled.

"Coward," she hissed.