I had been dismissed from the presence of the odious king as if he had some right to order me around. "Take her to the thralls," he had ordered.

I considered what his order meant

As I was walking out I spotted his letterhead on the desk. I did not have much time to look, but I saw a street name. I was not sure I read it right, but it was something, the first proper clue I had to my location.

I stopped fighting and let the curse have me for a moment to help hide my excitement. I faltered and almost fell as the fear rushed through me.

One of my unpleasant guards grabbed me by the arm roughly and dragged me forward, but at least it seemed to have worked. I was being observed, but the expressions were of curiosity rather than suspicion.

I was taken through the halls and back to the elevator. I surreptitiously watched the number for the elevator as we passed it, and then we went down several floors.

I was pulled out into another hall and down to near the end, where the doors were pushed open.

Inside were dozens of people moving around doing various tasks. I glanced around, feeling unsure of why I had been brought there.

"These people are all thralls?" I asked. They did not look as jumpy as I always imagined I appeared, although they all did seem quite miserable as I scanned the room.

Instead of answering properly, the guard grunted. I gritted my teeth at his expression and inhaled.

Maybe love was not the antidote to my curse, because my anger at the injustice that the king was inflicting on these people was making my blood boil. Surely these were not all criminals?

A short, slightly plump woman was making her way over to us. Her face was rigid and her eyebrows were a bit too square for her face round face. I met her eyes steadily as she approached.

She looked me over as if inspecting a museum piece. "She really is odd, isn't she?"

"Yeah," agreed one guard.

"Well, make yourself comfortable by the exit then. I'll take her from here."

The guards nodded and walked away, leaving me with the woman.

"I'm Sally, and my king told me to introduce you to some of our thralls. He thought you might be interested."

Obviously a mind game, he was hoping that I would be afraid. I nodded anyway.

"Come along now, Elise."

It annoyed me enough when she used my name as if I were familiar to her rather than being held hostage that I could feel it past the curse.

We began to walk through the beehive of misery. She introduced me to several thralls. They all had downcast eyes and nearly identical expressions of despair on their faces. Although she explained their backgrounds and they had external differences, they were all the same to me. One girl was supposedly a traitor, another was a rebellious son of the Rocky Mountain Wolves, another had been plotting treason, although his crime sounded more like simply having an opinion to me, another had nearly revealed her magic to regular humans.

I had obviously fared far better under Serge than these people did under the eastern king. If I had not already known, this alone would have convinced me of what sort of ruler he was. We could never give in to him, no matter what the cost.

Maybe he had intended this little tour to make me feel afraid and break my spirit, but it was having rather the opposite effect. A new feeling, sweet determination, pushed away the curse for a long moment.

It was after I met more of the poor souls that I got a real shock.

One of the thralls was different, but only in that she was somehow familiar. The blue eyes bore enough resemblance to the past that I could still place them. I recognized her, from years ago. Tall mountains, new werewolves, other children my age.

"Abby?" I whispered.

Her face looked at me and she narrowed her eyes as if in confusion.

I tried again. "We met when we were children, when my family visited your pack in the Rockies."

I did not see recognition, but her eyes did swim with tears. I stepped back and left it alone. What had they done to the poor girl?

Sally was watching our interaction and had clearly heard me, but I neither cared nor was surprised since I could smell she was a werewolf.

"It's my fault," she finally whispered back. "It's—"

I scowled. "No, it isn't. I don't know what you think you did, but the c-curse lies. I-it's all perception. It can't touch the truth."

It did not look like my words had any effect on her at all and I sighed and looked around the room at all the guilt ridden wretches surrounding me.

In that moment I gained a visceral understanding of why Matthias had threatened to kill Serge, because I would be pleased to see the gruesome death of the king merely to free these people from their chains.

I endured the tour quietly, my anger at what was before me building the seething rage and the new sense of purpose inside. I stopped fighting the curse for a moment to cover my emotions and wore it like a mask of fear, because that was what I wanted them to see.

Sally took me to her office and sat me down. I listened to a long rambling explanation of what they did here with their slave thralls. How devilishly practical to steal the will from people and turn them into cheap labour. Perhaps this delightful tour was meant to be my slave worker orientation.

Then there was a loud crash from outside the office and Sally leapt to their feet.

It seemed too good to be true. It felt like a trap and even more so when I spotted her office phone just sitting there on the desk.

My heart began to slam at my chest and my fingers were like ice as I reached across the desk and pulled the phone towards me.

The curse stabbed through me at my actions. "Damn it, you want me to get back to my master. It is what you want, don't try to stop me," I hissed at it as I brought the receiver to my face.

The irrational magic ignored me so I forced myself to ignore it.

The line sounded dead, but I threw caution to the wind and hit nine, hoping it would get me to an outgoing line like it had when we had stayed in hotels when we travelled. I could have cried at the sound of the dial tone.

I did not know Serge's number nor my dad's satellite phone number. I could not even remember my own. But I knew Matthias's in my sleep. I almost dialed him, but then my dad's office number flowed through my mind. I had called it so many times over the years.

I wanted to call and speak with Matthias so badly. I wanted the comfort of his voice. I wanted to let him know I was alive and as well as could be.

I dialed my father instead.

The phone rang and I prayed for someone to pick up quickly.

No one answered, but then the old school answering machine kicked in. I heard my dad's low recorded voice and moisture welled in my eyes.

Then the precious beep.

"It's Elise, I'm alive." I gave him the closest directions I could and hoped it would be enough for them to figure out the rest.

I swallowed and added one last thing. "No matter what happens to me, don't surrender. I've seen it. He's evil. He's wrong."

Slipping the phone back onto the receiver, and I pushed the phone back into place. Sally's desk was rather disorganized so I hoped she would not notice any slight changes.

I sat back in my chair and let the curse cover me again like a disguise.

It took over easily as it wound in harmony with my fear that they would figure out what I had done.

After Sally returned and finished her droning introduction of the gloriously productive life of a thrall under her odious king, I was returned to my little apartment cage and left in the care of Pauline again.

I immediately slipped back into my wolf form and curled up on the couch to regain my warmth.

Although it was not much, I did feel warmer than I had since I had been abducted. I had accomplished something, or at least I thought I had. I only hoped it was not the demise of my people.

I wished that I had the ability to break out of this place on my own and the sharp terror that my people might be hurt never quite left, but I now saw that it was necessary after all the thralls I seen. He was a man who abused his power. Abby was just one example. How long had she been a thrall? What could she possibly have done?

What could any of them have possibly done? There were so many more. While I had felt stunned at the time, my mind now wound through their stories. None of them should have been struck with the magic any more than I should have been.

They were likely hostages of good behaviour just as much as I was. How did the king maintain his control over his unwilling servants? Like my caretaker, Pauline, was her brother being held to hold her in line?

The king had to be stopped, no matter what, and likely his son, too.

I had rebelled against him as much as any of those poor people had, but it had seemed I had gotten away with it for now.

I smiled through my accursed fear and resumed my wait.