Elsa had to admit, she'd been in worse prisons before. The posh house looked like the exact homes that she'd robbed multiples times in her life. In fact, if she didn't know better, she would have thought that she had robbed it before. But she kept careful track of who she had robbed and who she hadn't, and a Baron Oswald was not on the list.

Sighing, Elsa started to pace. She didn't know where they'd sent the others, but she was impatient to escape. The longer they spent in this manor, the more chance there was of something terrible happening to Elaine. Her irritated steps got faster and heavier as she wondered how in the world they were going to escape.

Then she heard someone knock on the adjoining wall. Frowning briefly, she slipped over to it and tentatively knocked back. After a moment, a familiar voice spoke. "Alright, desperately hoping ye be a friend," Gerald said.

"It's me," Elsa said. "Are you alright?"

"Nothing hurt but me head and me pride, love," Gerald answered ruefully. "Ye?"

"Not even my head or my pride," she said. "At least we got taken where we were trying to go."

"I don't know where Apollo be," Gerald admitted. "If yer guess be correct, then he most likely be imprisoned with yer frozen statue of a friend."

Elsa leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. "What about Juliette?" she asked. "Do you know where she was sent?"

Gerald sighed loudly. "Wish I did," he said. "She could best me in a fist fight, and I mean that in the best way possible."

"I'm sure you do," Elsa said. "Do you think you can pick the lock on your door?"

"Aye."

Elsa nodded, forgetting for a moment that he couldn't see it. "We need to wait until it's dark. Then we can break out of here. Alright?"

"Sounds good to me," Gerald said. "The houses of the wealthy make me sick. Elsa, about yer sister ... do ye really think she still be alive?"

Although part of Elsa wanted to snap that of course Elaine was still alive and well, she didn't. Instead, she spoke quietly and thoughtfully. "I don't know, to be honest. I hope she is, but I've never really been one for optimism. The pessimistic side of me keeps insisting that maybe—maybe Apollo was the only one who got saved."

"That be the wrong way to think, love," Gerald told her quietly. "Yer sister be alive, I know she be. She were a good person, pure. And yer love for each other, it be too much to let it die as terribly as it did in those caves."

"How do you know?" Elsa's eyebrows shot up. "You only met Elaine when you saved us from those hands."

"Aye, of course," Gerald said, sounding more than a little flustered. His voice got further away, as if he'd moved from his position by the wall. "But it don't take more than that to know what type of girls ye both be."

That seemed to be an obvious lie, but Elsa decided not to pursue it. Not at the moment, when they needed to escape. But was it possible, that he'd known about them before saving them from the hands, from more than just the twins' notoriety?

"Elsa?" Gerald said, a tiny bit nervously. "Ye still there?"

"Oh ... yes. I'm here," she said, pushing aside her thoughts. "Of course. Umm, well, we escape later, then?"

"Aye. Later," Gerald agreed. "We can keep talking, if ye want to ...?"

She shook her head. "Someone's coming," she hissed. Sure enough, the doorknob of Elsa's door was jiggling, turning. As she watched, it opened and a man came in; judging from his clothes, he was a servant.

The man motioned to Elsa. "Come with me. The Baron wants to see you."

That couldn't be good, but Elsa saw no use in refusing. She tugged on her braid as she followed the servant out of her prison room, trailing along behind him through the ridiculously bright-toned hallways. They hurt her eyes, and she resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. Whoever had decorated the place was obviously a fop. She was curious about the statues that seemed to cover the entirety of the areas not being stepped on. In various sizes, shapes, and facial expressions, they all seemed to be made of ... ice.

The whole manor was far too cold, cementing more suspicions about the statues in Elsa's mind. If she was right, they would have to tread carefully. She did notice that, for the most part, the frozen statues were women. That did nothing to reassure her.

The study the servant brought her to was covered with more "art". Two statues and several paintings on the wall all seemed to follow Elsa with their eyes as she sat in the bright red, ridiculously puffy chair facing the Baron Oswald.

As she had anticipated, Oswald was a fop, but a young fop. He looked to be in his early-to-mid-twenties, with piercing green eyes as he looked at her. Mildly overweight, and, judging from his seated position, lacking in height, Elsa was not impressed by the Baron. "Elsa Silvereye," Oswald said, his voice deeper than she would have thought. "It is a pleasure to meet the most infamous thief in all of Vordelle. You're younger than I imagined you to be."

"So are you," Elsa said. "But you're as much of a fop as I imagined you to be. Honestly, your taste in décor is terrible."

"I'm very proud of my collection," Oswald answered, running his hand over his chin. "You don't think it's beautiful?"

Elsa had tried very hard not to look at them, but she couldn't resist looking now. The young woman on his left had a terrified look on her face—terrified and pleading. And a ring on her extended left hand. "They're people, aren't they?" she guessed, turning back to the Baron. "Real, live people ... frozen."

"Well, you are as smart as they say," Oswald said, smirking. "Do you like her? It's my wife."

"You—you're what?" Elsa stared at him in horror.

"My wife. She is beautiful, but she can get annoying," Oswald said. "Not anymore. Now she's beautiful, and silent. The best of both worlds, wouldn't you say?"

Elsa tried not to let his words horrify her, but she couldn't keep it all off her face. "You're despicable," she said.

"Am I?" Oswald answered. "They don't feel pain. They are at peace. And I get to enjoy their beauty."

"So what do you want from me?" Elsa demanded, having the uncomfortable feeling she knew exactly what it was he wanted from her. And she didn't like it one bit.

"You're beautiful, Elsa Silvereye," Oswald said appreciatively. "And famous. What an excellent addition to my collection you would make!"

"In your dreams," Elsa retorted. "I would never agree to that."

"Wouldn't you?" Oswald asked, sounding vaguely disappointed. But it was more of a disappointment in a child for refusing to give up sweets. "Even if it meant saving the lives of your friends?"

Elsa stiffened, just barely, and stared at him. "What do you mean by that?"

"Just what it sounds like. A threat," Oswald answered, relishing the words. Elsa wanted to punch his fat face, but there were two guards outside the door. Chances were, that wouldn't end well. Even if it would have been enormously satisfying, she decided it probably wouldn't be her best idea. "Join my collection, dear Elsa, or I will kill your two companions and hand the healer over to Damian. Which you know perfectly well is as good as a death sentence, for him."

"Don't you understand what that's going to do?" Elsa exclaimed, stupefied at his plan. "You hand Apollo over to Damian, and the world ends! That includes you and your precious collection of statues!"

"Ahh, nonsense," Oswald said casually. "I really doubt that Damian wants to destroy everything. No, he'll use the demons to take control, which will be fine for me. Did you know, the Lightshields frown on my sort of collection? I can't have anyone over here, or they'll find out. Do you know how restricting that is?"

"Restricted for a very good reason, in my opinion," Elsa replied. "You're disgusting."

"Then would you like me to bring your two friends in here?" Oswald asked. "I do believe I have my special executing sword here somewhere ..."

Elsa cringed visibly. "N-no, don't do that," she said. "There's no need to do that. I'm sure we can come to some kind of an agreement."

"Oh, I do like agreements!" Oswald said enthusiastically. "What sort of agreement?"

"One more day," Elsa said, and she felt defeated. "Give me one more day, and then I will let you turn me into a statue. One more day with my friends. But you have to promise to release all of them—even Morgan and Apollo."

Oswald looked crafty. "Oh, so you know about the fat mage, do you?" he said. "And how did you work that out?"

"I listen," Elsa answered simply. "That's all I have to do. In my line of work, listening offers more opportunities than you could possibly imagine in your small little mind, Baron."

"Small?" Oswald looked offended. "You think I'm small-minded, little thief? You think I don't understand these things? I worked my way to this position from the ground up. I bought, borrowed, and stole to get here. You don't know anything about me, Silvereye."

"Maybe I don't know everything about you," Elsa said. "But I know enough to know that you're a rotten person. And from someone who makes her living stealing from people, that's saying something. So maybe you should reconsider your life choices."

"Too late for that," Oswald said. "I unfreeze these statues and I'll be murdered. So why not continue doing what I love? Collecting beautiful things."

Elsa shuddered. "May I return to my room, then?" It would give her more time to come up with a plan to escape and not end up as one of Oswald's statues.

"Yes. I expect you all at dinner tonight," Oswald said, as the door swung open and the servant returned. "Don't disappoint me, Elsa. I don't like being disappointed."

"I'll do my best," Elsa answered, being honest. She would do her best not to disappoint herself.

Oswald smiled at her, but it was more a smile of a man who thought he'd won. "I'm sure you will, Elsa Silvereye. I'm sure you will."

The servant took hold of Elsa's upper arm and pulled her from the room. The last thing she saw before the door closed was the terrified eyes of Oswald's wife, staring back at her through the ice.