Brand was not lucky. Lady Gretchen of Castle Aurich was a child.

By law, she had to be at least thirteen to be married, but she looked closer to ten. Gretchen stood, at most, 4’ 11.” She was pale and thin, with no curves to her body and seemed as fragile as a dove. It made Brand angry. Why were girls married off so young and getting younger all the time?

Gretchen had not struggled when he kidnapped her. He did not want to fly for miles with her cramped in a rug. So, a few minutes past her castle, Brand stopped at a ruined mill, unwrapped the rug, and let her out.

She crawled slowly onto the creaking boards of the mill. Sunlight streamed in through the holes of the roof, and he could see that Gretchen had black hair, so black it was almost blue. She pulled her knees into her arms and stared up at him. Her eyes were blue and weary, with dark circles underneath them. She uttered no sound.

“Lady Gretchen,” he said. “You are my prisoner now.”

She did not react. It felt pointless to tell her not to scream or cry or run.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Brand said. “But—you need to listen to me and do as you’re told. Do you understand?”

She nodded.

Brand unrolled the rug. “Get on.”

She didn’t stand. She crawled on her hands and knees, and when she was in the very center of the rug, she curled up into a ball again, hiding her head. Brand sat down next to her. As they pulled into the sky, he noticed she was shaking, so he took off his cloak and laid it on top of her. He didn’t think it was that cold; it was a beautiful, crisp September day. But they were flying high and her dress was thin.

Gretchen did not cry the whole trip. She might have been a bundle of clothes under his cloak, for all that she moved. And yet, the more he stared at her, the more his throat tightened and his body heated and he felt sick. Had he always felt so guilty about kidnapping girls?

He tried to think of the last girl he’d stolen.

Seri.

He hadn’t felt guilty, then.

Seri was in the garden. He saw her as he flew over the wall. He hoped she did not see him, but she probably did. He opened the window to what had once been Lotte’s room. He hadn’t prepared it, so the room was dusty, but Lotte’s old dresses hung in the cabinet.

Brand locked the doors and windows and set the rug gently on the floor. Gretchen was still curled up in a ball, so quiet, he thought she might have fallen asleep. But she was not asleep, he realized as he lifted the cape. Her body was stiff and rigid, and her breathing was erratic.

“This is your room, Gretchen,” he said. “For the next few months, at least.”

She didn’t move.

“Stand up,” Brand commanded gently.

Very slowly, Gretchen hobbled to her feet. She did not look at him or at the room. Her head was down, and she stared at the floor. Brand thought to offer her a drink, but there was nothing in the room.

“Lie down.” He motioned at the bed.

With the tiniest steps, she made her way to the bed. Gretchen crawled up onto the covers and lay on her side, curled into a ball, like a little pill bug.

“I need you to lie flat on your back. Please.”

She uncurled herself. She was shaking very hard and sniffling softly.

“I’m not going to—” he started to say, but stopped. What was the point? Just get it over with. Brand summoned the dragon curse and forced it into her body. It was over. The worst was done.

“Sit up,” he commanded

She sat.

“I’ve put a curse on you,” Brand explained. “In three months, you will turn into a dragon, unless I release you from it. I will release you, but only if you agree to give me what I want.”

“What do you want?” Gretchen asked in a hoarse whisper. It was the first thing he’d heard her say.

“We’ll discuss it later.”

Actually, Brand didn’t know what he wanted. He’d considered not cursing her at all. But if he did that, Seri would think he’d gone soft, that she was getting to him—which was the last thing he wanted her to think.

Brand walked over to the dresser and pulled out a handkerchief.

“For now,” he said, handing it to her, “dry your eyes, wipe your nose, compose yourself. When you’re ready, go downstairs and meet the other… Seri. She’s also my… prisoner.” The word seemed to stick to his tongue. “She’ll explain what’s going on. Dinner is at seven. Please, dress for the occasion.”

He unlocked the door, picked up his cloak, and walked downstairs. He thought about removing the illusion he wore, but he decided against it. He didn’t want Seri to see what he was really thinking.

* * *

Seri was at the bottom of the staircase. Her boots were muddy, and her gardening gloves were still on. He glanced at her face and saw a look of horror in her eyes.

“What have you done?”

Brand fixed his gaze on the door of his tower.

“We have a new visitor,” he replied, brushing past her. He found, to his surprise, that his voice came out strong and even.

“Another girl? Why?”

“This is what I do, Seri,” he said coldly and heard her draw a breath. “Her name’s Gretchen. Tell her the rules and make her feel at home.”

“You want me to—?”

“She can sit at my left. I’ll see her in my room after dinner.”

He walked into his tower and shut the door behind him, before she could say anything else.