They hadn't noticed her yet. The room was large with a high, domed ceiling, and two sides were piled high with books on anatomy and body functions. Hormones, nerves, the brain—everything was here. However, there were some species that were so rare that no book covered them and their make-up. The Icix was one of them.

The third wall was full of weapons—mostly different kinds of knives and swords, but also a variety of unique weapons she'd never even seen before. Ones that were modified to hurt far worse than an ordinary sword or knife.

Killure was chained to the last wall, arms and legs bound, and hooked up to a variety of wires and machinery. Nothing had been taken from him yet—he was still in one piece, because her father and uncle were still setting up.

So this was why her father had bought the Icix for her.

They did this often with the other slaves, and it sickened Remi to her very core. Removing body parts with knives, then trying to put them back together and figure out how what they did affected the slave's body. Sometimes they would purposefully put a body part in the wrong place then revive the test subject and see if they could get the body part to work there. Often slaves would bleed out during testing as the two brothers wrote down notes on the results they'd gotten, only to be revived when they were ready to resume testing.

It was absolute torture, and Remi usually tried not to think about it, but today she had no choice. She wouldn't let someone she was responsible for be broken.

"Evening, father, uncle," Remi greeted boldly, acting like she was completely at ease, while inwardly she was terrified of confronting them and facing their wrath. "Looks like we've had a mix up, don't you think?"

Her father looked surprised to see her there, but he quickly recomposed himself and sighed at her, as though she was only a small child throwing a tantrum over a toy she couldn't have. One that he could easily handle and put back in her place. "And what mix up may that be, hmm?" he asked with a slight laugh, as if he hadn't just been about to preform some sort of cruel, inhumane testing on the Icix.

Remi walked over to Killure, who was watching her warily. "I think you mixed up my slave for yours. See, this one here? He's mine."

She stood protectively in front of him, her heart beating rapidly against her rib cage. "And so, we'll be taking our leave."

Her Uncle Fahrem hardly spared her a glance. "Kill her, brother. We'll reassemble her later once we're finished here with the Icix."

Remi's father gave him a sharp glare. "That's my daughter you're talking about."

"Yes, I'm well aware of that. And if it were a daughter of mine coming to prevent me from learning, I would take my own advice and follow through without hesitation."

Remi ignored the both of them, although her body was quaking in fear, and her eyes were wide. She needed to get out of her with Killure before her father was convinced to do things her uncle's way.

She snatched a key up from the cool surface of a nearby metal counter and undid his shackles. He glared silently at the floor, tensing every time her fingers accidentally brushed his skin as if they were blades.

"Remi, darling, I simply can't let you have him," her father frowned, looking at her with a frown and standing between her and one of the many entrances to this room.

She glanced around. There was a trap door in the ceiling, a door on the floor that opened to who knows where, and also the door she'd come in through.

"You already have, father. In contract and deed, he is officially my slave. Not yours, or yours, uncle. And if you disrespect that, I'll bring it up with the Council of Men."

Instead of becoming angry, her father almost appeared impressed. She'd never defied him before. Never.

Her father linked his fingers together and begun swooning, swaying from side to side happily. "Ohh, my baby girl is growing up so fast! I can't believe she stood up to me. I'm so proud!" he gushed. He was looking at her the same way someone would look at a cute, little animal who had just learned a new trick.

"But Levi—" her uncle began, causing her father to look away for a brief moment.

Remi saw her opportunity and took it. Without hesitation, she grabbed Killure's clawed hand and pulled him forwards. It was like trying to pull a large boulder uphill until he caught on and began moving his own legs.

In one quick motion, Remi wrenched open the door on the ground, and yanked them both down into the abyss of black. All light disappeared when Killure pulled the door shut behind them, and they began plummeting downwards on some kind of slide, a mess of limbs and wings and claws. Remi had never been down here before, and had no idea where it went.

They were flying so fast that the air pushed her back down whenever she tried to sit up. The slide took sharp twists and turns, and more than once Remi thought she would sail right off the edge.

Remi felt butterflies in her stomach when the slide disappeared out from under her for a brief few seconds. A scream ripped its way out of her throat, and she wrapped her arms around Killure and held on for dear life. She felt his chest rumble as he let out an amused chuckle, and it angered her. How could he be so relaxed while they were sliding in pitch darkness to what could possibly be their deaths? Still, she didn't dare lift her head to try and glare at him. He wouldn't be able to see it, anyway.

As the slide went on, Remi began to feel nauseous. She clenched her eyes tightly shut and held him even tighter.

Light suddenly erupted around them in a blinding flash as the slide began slowing down, eventually setting them down lightly on something soft.

Remi didn't dare open her eyes. She felt terribly dizzy, as though her brain had turned to mush and was now sloshing around in her head. It began unjumbling, but the process was slow and confusing.

All of a sudden she felt Killure's lips lightly brush her ear, striking clarity into her, his hot breath fanning her ear as he spoke.

"Doll, you're not being overly clear about what you want. Last night you push me away, and now you do this," his tone was light and teasing, jarring Remi out of her terrified stupor and making her tense.

Remi jerked her eyes open. Killure was sitting casually on the grass beneath them—grass?—with a muscled arm braced behind him, and the other around her. Blood rushed to her cheeks as she realized she was straddling him, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist and the side of her face pressed against his incredibly hard chest.

He let out a strangled growl.

"Seriously, doll, if you don't get off soon, I'm gonna lose control," he muttered, his voice becoming hoarse. He glanced downwards. "My pants are already feeling uncomfortably tight, and you're about to start feeling me. Unless that's what you want?"

Remi hesitated a moment, wondering what he would feel like pressed against her core, before quickly shaking the thought from her mind and getting off him. "My apologies."

He slowly stood to his feet, sending her a wicked grin. "For what, exactly? I happened to quite enjoy that."

Remi glanced around, looking for anything to distract herself.

They were on a field of perfectly manicured grass, rich and dark green. Surrounding them were fields of vegetables and fruits, with artificial lighting and sprinklers set up around them. Off in the distance, rows upon rows of trees, all evenly spaced, flourished.

"What is this place?" Remi murmured in awe.

"Not sure why you're asking me that when we're in your house," Killure piped up. "Also, why is this place is built like a maze?"

She turned to him and pursed her lips. "It's your house too, now."

Bitterness flooded his face. "Ah, yes, that's right."

Worry clouded Remi's vision. She walked over to him quickly, inspecting him for any red lines—the tell tale sign of reconstruction. Red lines only ever lasted a day at most, but they were useful for knowing exactly where one had been put back together.

He had none that she could see, which meant they hadn't got to him before she arrived. Remi left out a sigh of relief, before slowly walking around him, inspecting for any sign of damage.

His left wing was drooping at an awkward angle. The bone had broke, probably during their fall onto the slide. It was her fault.

"I'm sorry," she whispered as she ran her hands over the break. They began to glow as she put the bone back together. "I should have been more careful." He jerked away from her, stepping back and looking at her with suspicion in his eyes.

"What?" she asked him. "I'm going to heal your wing?"

"And why would you do that, doll?"

Remi gave him a confused glance. "Because it's my fault it got broken."

"Why would you waste your time healing me?"

Remi ignored him, and only gestured for him to turn around so she could get to his back.

Killure sighed deeply, but the suspicion never left his eyes as he complied and turned back around. He looked like he truly believed she was going to tear him apart, but was simply going along with it because he had no other choice, as her slave.

When she was done, he turned around and gave her a perplexed look, shocked that she had actually taken the time to heal him. "Why?"

"Why what?" Now she was confused.

He shook his head, as if he wasn't sure if he wanted to answer that. "Why are you acting like you care? I'm a slave. Your slave. If your father wants to use me as one of his guinea pigs, you should have let him. My duty is to serve. Pain is what I'm expecting."

Remi actually heard a growl come out of her mouth. "Because in a better world, you shouldn't have to be a slave. You should be able to—"

He cut her off, his smile turning icy cold. "The world is far from perfect, doll. And there's nothing you can do to change that."

She shook her head fiercely. "That's not how it should be! Just because something is the way it is, doesn't mean it should remain as such."

"You're wrong. Stop trying to pretend that it can be any different," he replied coldly. There was nothing friendly behind that smile. In fact, it sent icy tendrils of fear running down her spine.

She walked over to him, absentmindedly noticing that she'd lost one of her slippers sometime in the commotion, and that the grass was impossibly soft against her feet. Was there a hint of dew left behind from when they were watered?

Killure tried to step back from her, but she reached out and grabbed his wrists to keep him in one spot. If he wanted to he could easily break free from her hold, but he didn't. His skin scorched her where she touched him.

"You . . ." she began, irritation bubbling beneath her skin. "You usually make me angry whenever you open your mouth, and I don't understand anything you do."

Killure raised an eyebrow, appearing thoroughly bored. "Are you done yet?"

She ignored him. "But all that . . . it means you haven't yet been broken. You're not just an empty shell like nearly every slave I see. No one has been able to take your soul from you yet."

"Why do you keep saying 'yet'?" he muttered, looking away uncomfortably.

"Because I don't want to see you end up like them," Remi exclaimed. "Not like Gulthar."

He looked thoroughly annoyed. "You're simplistic and naive, and it's hurting my ears to hear you talk. And stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you are searching for good in my eyes. Believe me, you won't find any."

Before she could get in another word, he shoved his hands in his pockets and began walking towards the gardens.

Remi jogged to catch up to him, anger coursing through her veins. She couldn't get over his insults from earlier. How rude can one person be?

A faint blur of yellow caught her attention, and she turned to find that she was standing in the middle of a bunch of trees, all bearing golden pears. Remi brought her hand up and plucked one from a nearby branch, sniffing it before biting into its soft, juicy flesh.

It tasted phenomenal—better than any pear she'd ever had in the past. The rich flavour made her tastebuds water.

She realized Killure was staring at her. His heavy gaze scorched her soul.

Her eyes widened in realization. "Oh, you want some? Here, have a peach."

She held a ripe one out to him, but he simply wrinkled his nose and turned away.

"It's not poisoned," Remi grumbled, taking a small bite out of the side. "See?"

He watched her for a moment without replying. His mind seemed to be in an entirely different place than hers, and she became curious.

"What are you thinking about?" Remi asked him, finishing off the remainder of the pear and bringing up a handkerchief to dab at her lips.

He didn't reply.

"Oh come on, if I was going to punish you every time you made me angry, I would have done so already. So, out with it."

He paused in contemplation for a moment, before allowing a slow smirk to grace his lips. "You know, most slaves would rather kill themselves before being bound to someone from your family. The Goldridges are both hated and feared."

Well, that wasn't what Remi had expected to hear. His words crawled uncomfortably beneath her skin.

Killure continued in that lazy drawl of his. "The rest fantasize about being chosen so that they can kill one of you, even if they die in the process. Though, I suppose you would just be brought back to life."

How disturbing. The words sent a shudder through Remi's body. Instead of cowering in fear like her mind was screaming at her to, she bravely looked up into his eyes. He was leisurely leaning against a tree, watching her closely.

"And which are you, Killure?"