Brand didn’t sleep that night. He tossed and turned in his bed, all the while getting angrier and angrier. At Rilla, at all the other girls who seduced him—against their will, apparently. If they didn’t care for him, why not tell him so?

All women are liars, he decided. They smile and they lie, and they make you into fools.

And this, inevitably, brought up all the bad memories of Lady Genoveva and how she had smiled and lied and said time and time that she loved him, that she never would leave him—and then discarded him as soon as his mother died, as soon as he stopped being “charming.” He’d sworn this would never happen again, that he’d never let a woman bind him and toy with him and destroy him. But here he was, and he set the rules, it was his house, his magic, and still somehow, they made him feel terrible, used and foolish.

He raged and raged, until he fell asleep. He woke early and took Berta back—almost forgot to take the amulet, his brain was in such a fog—and on the way back from his treasury deposit, he passed Rilla’s castle.

He nearly stopped.

He didn’t. That was a rule he gave himself. Never go back. Never. It was stupid and dangerous, and he shouldn’t even be thinking of it, but he desperately wanted to ask her, “Did you really kiss me and hold me and let me inside you, all because you thought I held a knife to your throat?”

And why did it matter if she thought so or not? He shouldn’t care what she thought about him—what any of them thought. God, even under these circumstances, girls still wreaked havoc on his mind. He had all the magic, all the power, all the control, how did they always make him feel so damn helpless?

Brand stormed back inside, only to realize he hadn’t hired more servants or bought more chickens or done any shopping at all. He had no intention of doing so today. Instead he stomped by the kitchen and, glancing through the window, noticed that the girls were making pies. Ida was cutting the dough and Lotte was whispering some joke that set Ida giggling. Then Lotte saw him and nudged Ida. She stopped laughing and went still.

Just like that, all his anger turned into smoke, and in its absence came this deep, sucking void, a gaping hole. Brand shut his eyes. Nobody wanted him, and now it seemed like nobody needed him, either. He was a stranger in his own home. Brand went into the kitchen and saw Seri opening the oven.

“Check the pies in a half an hour. Not before, or they won’t cook.” Seri glanced at Brand. “You took Berta home?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Good.” Seri closed the oven. “Did you want something from us?”

“I didn’t buy chickens.”

“Oh.”

“Or hire servants.”

“We’ve survived this long without them.”

“Is that for dinner?” he asked, indicating the oven.

Seri looked away. “We didn’t know when you’d be back.”

“I told you I’d speak to you tonight, did I not?” Brand said. “Despite what you think of me, I do keep my word.”

* * *

“I didn’t touch her, you know.”

It was after dinner, and they were in his private room. The pies had been delicious. Brand was surprised Seri had offered him any at all, given how sullen and quiet she was. Even now, she sat rigidly in her chair, jaw clenched, saying nothing, though she had been the one to request this meeting. The way she looked at him was a mixture of hatred and disgust.

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“Berta,” he clarified. “She was shaking and crying, and I’m not in the habit of bedding frightened, sobbing girls. I’m not a savage, you know.”

Her expression didn’t change.

Brand took a sip of wine.

“What did Rilla say about me, the first day you met?”

“That dinner was at seven and you expected us to be there.”

“And after that?”

“I didn’t see her much the next day.”

Brand put his goblet down and stepped closer. “What do the other girls say about me?” he asked.

Seri gritted her teeth. “Right now, they tell me that you can be kind when you are pleased, and that I should try harder to please you.”

“And what did they say pleases me?”

“In my case, shutting my mouth.”

He laughed, but only briefly.

“Anything else?” he asked darkly.

“I’m sure there are other things, but silence is all I’m prepared to give you.”

“What do they say I want in exchange for their release?”

“I didn’t ask. It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to do it.”

“You’d rather be a dragon.”

“Better a dragon than a whore,” she shot back.

He winced.

She pressed her lips together.

Brand put his hand upon the game table. “I didn’t tell the girls they needed to sleep with me. I never said it was a condition of their release.”

“You implied it.”

“That’s not the same thing!”

He swung his hand, knocking over the game table. It crashed into the floor with a loud bang. Seri sat very still upon her chair, clenching her skirt. Her chin was tucked down, her lips pressed together in a hard line.

Brand rubbed his hand against the bridge of his nose. Suddenly, he felt very tired.

“Is everyone afraid of me?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Except you?”

“I’m afraid,” she said.

He didn’t believe that. If she believed he ‘d hurt her, why did she provoke him? You didn’t poke bear, unless you knew the bear had no teeth. He stared at the fallen game table. All show, no force, that was him. He wondered if the other girls saw it, too.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” he asked.

“We ran out of food,” Seri said.

“You came to scold me?”

“You said you didn’t mean for it to happen. That you were delayed.”

“I was.”

“We were trapped in here.” Seri looked down at her hands, knotted atop her skirt. “What happens to us, if you leave and don’t come back? If you get delayed again? If you get killed?”

“If I get killed, the tower—” He almost said that the tower’s defenses would drop, letting them escape. But he didn’t. He didn’t want to have more people trying to kill him.

“I have plans,” he said. “I promise, I will take care of you.”

“What plans?” she pressed.

“Plans.”

She tilted her head and stared to the side, like she didn’t believe him. She stood up.

“Good night, Brand.”

“Seri, don’t leave.”

“I said my piece, and now there’s nothing more to say.”

She headed for the door, but Brand tugged on it, and the door swung shut.

She whirled on him. “I have nothing to say to you!”

“Well, I do,” he said. “You are rude and self-righteous and stubborn, and I can already tell you plan to fight me the whole time you’re here. So before we get too far into this war, can we discuss the rules of engagement?”

She crossed her arms. She didn’t sit, but she didn’t turn her back on him, either.

“What terms do you have in mind?”

He stepped up to her, looking her in the eyes. They were very dark, almost black in this room, and specks of candlelight glittered in her pupils.

“You’re honest,” he said. “And brave. The other girls admire you. They see you as a leader. I want you to tell them the truth about me.”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Truth? You care about the truth?”

“I want them to feel safe.”

“I can’t say that we are. Right now, the only thing I can tell the girls for certain is that you haven’t murdered anyone—yet.”

“You can get to know me. I’ll place a charm on this room. While we’re in here, we both agree tell the truth.”

“Like before? You’ll force me to answer every question you ask? I won’t consent to that.”

“I’ll modify it, so that we’re not compelled to answer. But any answers given will be true. That way we can trust each other.”

“I don’t trust you, and frankly, I don’t want to. I am not going to be your spokesperson. I do not work for you.”

She turned toward the door.

“What do you want?” he asked her.

She turned. “I want you to end the curse and let us go home.”

“Well, if—”

“No ifs. No conditions. Just let us go.”

He sighed, walked past her, and opened the door for her.

“Think about my offer,” he said. “Think on it as you sleep, Seri. It will be a lot easier for everyone if we learn to get along.”