Through the narrow slit of her mask, Aveline searched the back of the hall where the voice had risen from the shadows, her pulse still thundering from the humiliation she had barely escaped.
For the first time that night, something other than despair flickered in her chest.
Her gaze found him.
He stood apart from the others, tall and broad-shouldered, leaning casually against the stone wall as though he were attending a dull banquet rather than a flesh market. He held his helmet under one arm, its crest unmistakable even in the dim lantern light. The shape, the engraved insignia, the curved guard polished to a muted sheen... those were not from this kingdom.
Greenvale.
Their neighboring kingdom.
Even from this distance, authority radiated from him in quiet waves. The other masked men seemed smaller in comparison, like scavengers shrinking before a predator.
She tried to see his face, but her vision swam. Black dots speckled her sight. She had not eaten in two days, and the blow to her head still pulsed dully beneath her skull. Exhaustion dragged at her limbs, urging her to surrender to darkness, but she forced her eyes to remain open.
One thousand ducats.
Gold.
Offered by a knight of Greenvale for a disgraced noblewoman being sold like cattle.
No matter how she turned it in her mind, it reeked of something far more dangerous than the lecherous greed of the men before her.
Why would a foreign knight spend a fortune on her unless she was useful for something far worse than lust? What did Greenvale want with a fallen viscount's daughter? Political leverage? Amusement? Revenge?
A cold certainty settled over her.
If she did not die here, her fate might be something even more unspeakable.
The hall fell unnaturally silent. The bidders who had howled moments ago now stood stiff and calculating. Gold had a way of silencing even the most depraved appetites.
Rough hands seized her arms. She was dragged off the platform as another girl was dragged to her place. Aveline was taken into a narrow hallway behind the stage, her knees scraping across stone before they threw her to the ground as though she were cargo being set aside for collection.
A heavy door creaked open somewhere nearby, followed by the low murmur of negotiation. Soon after, one came and removed her mask and disappeared.
She heard it then.
The measured clink of metal.
Armor.
He was ascending the stairs.
He stopped and stared at her for a second before resuming his walk.
Why would a knight wear full armor during peacetime? Why enter a black-market auction dressed for battle?
The answer curled ominously in her stomach.
And she did not wish to discover it.
She lifted her head slowly, forcing herself to breathe. The hallway was dim, lit by a single oil lamp. At the far end, a narrow window spilled a ribbon of moonlight across the floor.
Freedom.
Or death.
She inhaled once. Twice.
The armored man had stepped into the adjoining chamber.
Now.
She pushed to her feet, chains clinking softly. Ignoring the burn in her wrists, she ran. She did not think. She did not hesitate.
She hurled herself through the window.
The drop stole her breath. She landed hard, ankles screaming, but forced herself upright as shouts erupted behind her.
"Stop her!"
Boots thundered.
She ran. Bare feet struck damp earth as she fled into the forest, shadows swallowing her whole.
Then…
"Stop, Little Hare."
The voice carried effortlessly. Not shouted. Commanded.
Her heart lurched.
Little Hare.
No one had called her that in years.
No! It can't be him.
She ran faster.
The shouts faded. In their place came something worse…
The steady clink of armor.
Closer.
How could he move that fast?
Her lungs burned. Branches tore at her skin. She wouldn't last much longer.
She spotted a hollow at the base of an ancient oak and dove inside, pressing herself against the bark, forcing silence.
The clinking slowed.
Stopped.
Through a crack in the wood, she saw him step into the clearing, silvered by moonlight. Broad shoulders. Plated steel. A dark visor hiding everything human.
"You cannot hide forever," he said calmly. "I can smell you."
Ice slid down her spine.
He stood still, helmet tilting slightly…
Toward her.
The visor aligned with the hollow.
Her breath caught.
Seconds stretched.
Then…
He turned away.
The clinking resumed, fading into the trees.
She counted to ten.
There was only silence, except for the noise of the forest.
Aveline slipped from the hollow, biting back the pain in her ankles. She had taken only a few careful steps…
"Found you."
Strong arms wrapped around her waist and lifted her effortlessly from the ground.
She gasped and thrashed, kicking wildly despite the chains.
"Let me go!" she cried, her voice hoarse but fierce.
He did not answer.
With controlled ease, he spun her around to face him.
For a heartbeat, all she saw was steel.
The helmet loomed close, the dark visor reflecting the pale moonlight. Her own distorted silhouette stared back at her from its surface—small, desperate, wild-eyed.
Then he reached up.
Metal scraped softly against metal as he removed the helmet.
Moonlight touched his face.
The world tilted.
Dark hair fell slightly over his brow, no longer unruly as she faintly remembered from childhood, but disciplined and deliberate. His features were sharper now, carved by years rather than softened by youth. His jaw was stronger, his expression unreadable. But his eyes…
Those eyes.
Deep, nearly black, and far too familiar.
Recognition struck her like a physical blow.
"Theron?" The name escaped her before she could stop it, barely more than a breath.
The Night Fox.
The orphan boy who had once endured her cruelty in silence.
The one who had vanished just before her parents were murdered.
Shock rooted her to the spot. Of all the faces fate could have placed behind that helmet, it had chosen his.
"Am I?"
He did not smile.
He did not look angry.
He simply watched her… as if waiting to see who she had become.