But I have never been one to shy away from a challenge, and Elara is nothing if not that.
Elara.Such a lyrical name, as beautiful as the woman herself. It suits her so perfectly that I wonder how I did not guess it from the start.
That softness is why it was so difficult to see her distressed. Though I would feel the same if I found myself in another realm entirely. And truth be told, I probably don’t need her for my plans—I could claim I sold her for a profit and continue on alone. But thenagain, I may fare better with her. Having her pose as my pawn might grant me access to places and people otherwise closed off to me.
I do intend to keep my promise to help her find a way home, so I’m not entirely the villain. At least that’s how I pacify the nagging guilt gnawing at my stomach.
My ruminations are interrupted by her muffled voice behind the door. “Okay, I’m done.”
I reenter the room, and the sight that greets me steals the breath from my lungs.
The soft brown bodice hugs her waist perfectly, laced delicately down the front, drawing attention to the curve of her hips before spilling into a plain white skirt. It isn’t the kind of outfit meant to impress, but somehow, it does just that. The simplicity only makes her more striking, like she was made for this realm. Her red hair is loose and wild, cascading in soft waves over her shoulders and catching the light in a way that makes her look lit from within.
I’m transfixed. I can’t take my eyes off her. She moves with such quiet grace, unaware of how much she belongs here, how she’s exactly where she’s meant to be. And for a fleeting moment, I can’t imagine being anywhere else myself.
“You’re staring,” she says, smoothing her hands down the front of her bodice. “Did I put it on wrong or something?”
I clear my throat in an attempt to also clear my mind. “You are missing one final detail.”
She frowns, glancing around the room. “I didn’t see anything else. I put on everything that you gave me…”
Crossing to her, I reach into my pocket and pullout the pawn collar—a simple silk ribbon worn by all in servitude to tether the pawn to their owner. Though magick was outlawed decades ago, nobles often turn a blind eye when a particular enchantment works in their favor, and men who trade lives for gold pay little heed to the law. I had to return to that bastard dealer last night to acquire the collar, but without it, her transformation would be incomplete, and our ruse would fall apart.
Her eyes widen at the sight of it. I chose the burnished gold silk to match the amber flecks in those deep pools of liquid green.
“What’s that?” she asks.
“A necessary accessory,” I reply, running the silk between my fingers. I step closer, the space between us narrowing until it’s almost nonexistent. I raise the collar, the cool silk draping over my hands. “Lift up your hair,” I murmur, my voice lower than I intended.
Elara hesitates before gathering the waves at her nape, exposing the elegant line of her neck and the delicate curve where her pearl-white skin slopes to meet her shoulder. A stray tendril escapes her grasp, curling against her collarbone, and I have the sudden urge to brush it back into place.
I slip the ribbon around the back of her neck. My fingers graze her skin, warm and smooth and softer than the collar’s silk or any other I’ve felt. She reacts to my touch with a slight hitch in her breath. Subtle goose bumps rise beneath my fingertips as she holds herself rigid. Her chest lifts and falls in shallow bursts as if she’s torn between leaning in and pulling away.
I take my time knotting the collar at the base of herthroat, her pulse fluttering beneath my fingertips. Being mindful to test that it’s secure but not restrictive, I slip a finger under the ribbon.
Her lips part as I drag my palm along the silk to the ends that brush the valley between her breasts. Keeping my hand on her chest, I remove the dagger from my boot and slice the ends of the ribbon so they dust the peaks of her nipples. These collars are intended as practical tools to control unruly pawns, but as I stand here, my mind conjures far less innocent uses.
My body responds to these forbidden fantasies—muscles tensing, heart racing, every nerve ending acutely aware of her closeness. This is not the time for distractions. Yet, the more I try to ignore it, ignoreher, the more insistent the feeling becomes.
Her breathing matches mine in its unsteady rhythm. I glance up to find her eyes fixed on me, her pupils beginning to eclipse the green of her irises. “Is this the latest fashion for servants or something?”
“It is a pawn collar. It marks you as—” I pause, the wordpropertycatching in my throat. The very idea makes me sick. Instead, I shift the meaning to something else entirely, a different kind of ownership—one born of desire. “It marks you as mine.”
She touches the ribbon lightly, her fingers brushing against mine for the briefest moment. The contact is fleeting but sends another electric thrill through me. “I don’t like the idea of wearing a collar.”
“If we’re to convince others, you need to look the part.”
She nods slowly, her eyes lifting to meet mine again, her lashes framing them like dark curtains. There’s avulnerability within her gaze that tugs at something inside me, a protective instinct I haven’t felt in years.
An unspoken tension hangs heavy between us, a magnetic pull drawing me toward her. My gaze drops to her lips, parted ever so slightly, and I crave knowing how they would feel against mine.
I take a deliberate step back, breaking the spell. The loss of her warmth is immediate but necessary. I can’t afford to lose focus. She is a distraction—a dangerous one at that. I have a mission to complete, revenge to enact that has consumed every part of me for the past year. I can’t allow anything or anyone to interfere.
“We should get going,” I say, clearing my throat to mask the unsteadiness.
“Right,” she agrees, swallowing thickly. “Actually, wait, no. I need to know how I’m supposed to act.”
“For now, all you must do is follow me as we walk through the square. Do not speak to anyone, and keep your gaze lowered. If I purchase something, you will be expected to carry it. Our objective is to listen for anyone discussing the Mabon Festival and how I might garner an invitation. Understood?”
