The room was the same dust-choked antechamber where Anna had spent most of her twenty years. Forgotten, cold, and smelling faintly of mildew. It was where the Gareth family kept their least valued possessions. That included her.
She stood near a wall, a thin girl dressed in a borrowed gown of heavy, suffocating wool that concealed the geography of bruises and scars beneath. The dress was out of fashion; it was only to make her presentable for this occasion.
Anna was not beautiful, not by the standards of the imperial city or the south. Her features were too sharp, her face filled with freckles, her eyes too large that couldn't even serve their purpose, and the habit of silence had drawn her posture into a permanent curve of apology. All parts of her body were shaking as if she was about to break at any moment. She was the family failure, the embarrassing truth they kept locked away, the proof of their petty cruelties.
Lord Gareth, her father, sat across a polished mahogany desk, his face radiating the self-satisfied contempt he usually reserved for stable hands. He was not even looking at her; he was addressing a man from the Thorne retinue—a gaunt, precise clerk named Cassian, who noted everything with an unnerving, almost spiritual reverence.
"The girl is entirely compliant," Lord Gareth stated, tapping a heavy signet ring on the contract spread before him. "She understands the term. The north requires this alliance; as the eldest available daughter, Anna will be the one."
Cassian finally raised his eyes. They were the color of stagnant water, and they skimmed over Anna with a disturbing lack of interest, as if appraising a fence post.
"The Thorne family requires only assurance of her lineage and her ability to produce an heir, my lord," Cassian murmured, his voice as dry as bone dust. "Her past compliance or the lack of it is irrelevant. When she joins the Thorne household, her obedience will be absolute, guaranteed by the terms of the contract."
Anna felt the cold word, "Possession," echo in the empty chamber. She knew what Cassian meant; her family perfected the methods of physical and psychological torture, but the Thorne family were the masters of a deeper, more systemic cruelty. They didn't just inflict pain; they engineered despair.
They were the architects of fear in the empire, and now her sole purpose was to be folded into their darkest operation.
"A necessary exchange," Lord Gareth repeated, signing the final page with a triumphant flourish.
He then gestured impatiently at Anna.
"Come forward, girl. This man..." he paused for a few seconds, then continued. "Cassian requires your confirmation of identity. Say your name."
She took a slow, deliberate step toward the desk. As she took those steps, she looked down at her feet. She couldn't see what was in front of her or what the person that she wanted to address looked like or where he was standing. She could only see a blurry shape of a standing human as she raised her head and opened her mouth.
"A-A-Anna..." she whispered, her voice thin, unfamiliar, a sound she hadn't needed to make in months. "...G-g-a-areth.".
Lord Gareth nodded once, satisfied, already looking past her.
"The papers are signed. She is yours."
The Thorne clerk closed the leather portfolio over the contract.
"We will prepare for her departure by the end of the day, my lord. Thorne does not tolerate delay."