The carriage rolled into the night, each jolt sending spikes of pain through my mud-caked knees. Roric sat across from me, his bulky frame taking up most of the seat, a smug grin stretched across his scarred face.
"You know," Roric began, breaking the tense silence, "you remind me of Lord Malachi's previous father-in-law."
I stiffened, trying to control my racing heart. "I wasn't aware Lord Malachi had been married before."
Roric's laugh was like gravel underfoot. "Oh yes. Lovely woman. Her father was much like you—a gambling man who couldn't pay his debts."
My mouth went dry. "What happened to him?"
"Had an unfortunate accident." Roric leaned forward, his fetid breath washing over me. "Lord Malachi arranged it personally. Left the body where no one would find it."
I swallowed hard, feeling sweat trickle down my spine despite the night chill. "Are you threatening me, Roric?"
"Not at all, Baron." He tapped his meaty finger against his knee. "Just making conversation. Telling stories between friends."
"We are not friends."
"No," Roric agreed, his voice dropping to a growl. "We're not. You're just a pathetic old man who tried to sell his daughter for money."
My fists clenched. "You know nothing about my affairs."
"I know everything," he countered. "I know about your gambling. I know how you stole your daughter's inheritance. I know how you planned to hand Isabella over to Lord Malachi like she was livestock."
"Business arrangements between noblemen are—"
"Evil," Roric cut in, his eyes glittering. "That's what they are. And I've seen true evil, Baron. I work for it."
The carriage slowed, and through the window I glimpsed a massive structure looming against the night sky—Lord Malachi's country estate. Unlike the warm, inviting mansions of most nobility, this place seemed to swallow light. Sharp spires jutted upward like knives, and gargoyles hunched along the roof's edge, their stone faces frozen in eternal snarls.
As we pulled to a stop, Roric pushed open the door. "Out."
I climbed down, trying to brush the dried mud from my clothes. The estate was even more imposing up close—a gothic monstrosity of black stone and narrow windows.
"This way," Roric ordered, gripping my arm and steering me toward massive oak doors that creaked open at our approach.
The entrance hall's opulence struck me immediately—marble floors polished to a mirror shine, crystal chandeliers dripping with teardrops of light, priceless artifacts displayed in glass cases. But there was something wrong about it all. The paintings lining the walls depicted scenes of suffering—a woman drowning, a man burning, children cowering from shadows.
"Admiring the art, Baron?" Roric asked, noticing my gaze. "Lord Malachi commissions them specially. He says they capture the human spirit in its most honest moments."
I looked away quickly, my stomach turning. "Where is Lord Malachi?"
"Dining room. He's expecting you."
Roric led me down a long corridor adorned with more disturbing artwork until we reached another set of doors. He pushed them open without knocking.
The dining room was cavernous, illuminated by dozens of black candles that cast more shadow than light. At the far end of a table long enough to seat thirty sat Lord Malachi, a slender, elegant man with silver-streaked black hair and eyes like frozen tar. Beside him sat a woman I didn't recognize—young, beautiful, and utterly terrified.
"Ah, Baron Reginald!" Lord Malachi called out, his melodic voice at odds with the coldness in his eyes. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten our appointment."
I forced a smile. "Lord Malachi. My apologies for the delay."
"And for your appearance," he added, gesturing to my mud-stained clothing. "Did you fall, old friend?"
"Something like that," I muttered, acutely aware of Roric's amused snort behind me.
"Come, sit." Lord Malachi indicated the chair opposite him. "Would you like wine? Or perhaps something stronger? You look as though you could use it."
I approached cautiously, sliding into the offered seat. "Wine would be appreciated."
As a servant appeared with a crystal goblet, Lord Malachi studied me with the detached interest of a scientist examining an insect.
"I heard the most distressing news," he said conversationally. "About your servant, Roric. Killed on your land."
I glanced at the very-much-alive Roric standing by the door, then back to Lord Malachi. Understanding dawned—this was a charade, a test.
"Yes," I replied carefully. "A tragic incident. I appreciate your assistance in helping me escape my wife's suspicions."
Lord Malachi smiled, a thin-lipped expression that never reached his eyes. "Always happy to assist a business partner. Speaking of which—where is your daughter? The lovely Isabella?"
I shifted uncomfortably. "There have been... complications."
"So I've heard." Lord Malachi's fingers drummed against the table. "The Duke of Blackwood proposed to her, did he not? Most unexpected."
"Duke Alaric threatened me," I blurted. "He knows about our arrangement. Said he'd ruin me if I didn't break our deal."
Lord Malachi's expression darkened. "Alaric Thorne. Always interfering where he's not wanted." He took a sip of wine. "Did you know we were at university together? He was insufferably righteous even then."
"My lord, I—"
"I don't want Isabella as my wife, Baron," he interrupted. "I merely want her as an addition to my collection."
My blood turned to ice. "Collection?"
Lord Malachi waved his hand toward the terrified woman beside him. She flinched at the gesture. "I collect interesting women. Interesting items. Isabella, with her mask and her secrets, would be a fascinating acquisition. To perform as a mistress when I grow bored, perhaps. Nothing more."
The casual cruelty in his voice made me recoil. What kind of monster had I been dealing with?
"I'm afraid that's impossible now," I stammered. "She's married to the Duke."
"Nothing is impossible." Lord Malachi leaned forward, placing his hand on my thigh under the table. His grip tightened painfully. "You have two choices, Baron. Either repay half of what you owe me by tomorrow noon, or bring me Isabella and I'll consider your debt paid in full."
I gasped as his fingers dug into my flesh. "But she's the Duchess of Blackwood now! I can't simply deliver her to you!"
"I don't care for her title," he hissed, his facade of civility cracking. "I care for what's mine. And she was promised to me."
"The Duke would hunt you down," I protested weakly.
Lord Malachi laughed, a sound like breaking glass. "Let him try. My collection is well-hidden, and I have friends in places Alaric Thorne can't reach."
His grip tightened further, and I bit back a whimper. "Tomorrow noon, Baron. Either the money or Isabella. If you bring neither..." His eyes flicked meaningfully toward Roric. "My associate will pay you another visit. A longer, more permanent one."
The woman beside him stifled a sob, quickly silenced by Lord Malachi's withering glance.
My mind raced through my options. I had no way to gather that much money by tomorrow. My creditors were already circling like vultures, and after tonight's dinner, my household was in chaos. Isabella was my only bargaining chip—but she was now protected by one of the most powerful men in the kingdom.
Yet if I didn't deliver something to Lord Malachi, I was as good as dead.
"What would you have me do?" I whispered. "Kidnap her from the Duke's estate?"
"The details don't concern me," Lord Malachi replied coldly. "Only the results."
He finally released my thigh, leaving what would surely be bruises shaped like fingerprints. I sucked in a shaky breath.
"I... I'll bring Isabella," I said, the words tasting like poison.
Lord Malachi's face split into a smile. "Excellent decision, Baron. Now, would you care to stay for a bite? My chef has prepared a delightful roast."
I stared at him in horror. This man threatened my life, demanded I deliver my daughter to him like chattel, and now offered dinner as if we were old friends discussing the weather.
"I think not," I managed to say. "I have... preparations to make."
"Of course, of course." Lord Malachi snapped his fingers, and Roric stepped forward. "My man will escort you back to your carriage. Until tomorrow, Baron."
I rose on unsteady legs, bowing stiffly before following Roric from the dining room. As we walked through the eerie corridors, I realized I had just made a deal with a devil I could not hope to outwit.
Tomorrow, I would have to choose between my life and my daughter's freedom.
And God help me, I already knew which I would choose.