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

His words echoed in her brain that night, as she paced her dark room, biting her hands and trying will her heart into slowing down. He wanted honesty? For them to sit in his private room and speak truthfully whenever they were together. It was a strange offer—more of a concession from him, rather than from her. She was always honest, and he knew it. So why force himself to tell the truth?

Of course, one might tell the truth and still deceive. But why make things harder for himself? Why bother with the spell at all?

Why single her out?

Why did he want her—more than any of the other girls—to trust him?

Trust him? It was a repulsive notion. Her whole being revolted at the thought. She wouldn’t trust him now that she understood he wanted it. Anything he wanted, she would refuse, as much as she were able to. She would plant herself against him, at every opportunity she could. Her mind, at least, was free of him, and she intended to keep it that way.

It would be nice, though, to know the truth.

It would make it easier to understand him.

Did he want her to understand him? Why? Seri bit her knuckle. Maybe it was another way for him to get under her skin, to manipulate her, to twist her and break her. Maybe he wanted her to always be thinking of him, constantly trying to figure him out.

It was working.

She kept thinking about statements he’d made—that he hadn’t meant to leave them for so long, that he hadn’t slept with Berta. Was it true? Part of her wanted it to be true, because then she would feel… not secure, not by any means. Just not terrified, every moment of every day.

Could Brand really have some speck of human decency in him?

* * *

Brand went out the next morning and did not come back until noon. Seri had been looking through shelves in the small library, trying to find something in a language she could read, when Lotte sprang through the door.

“We have chickens again!”

“Good,” Seri said. She drew up a thin green volume, and found it filled with carefully drawn plants and letters all in Greek. She put it back.

“And a maid. And a cook.”

“He must be tired of burnt bread.”

“And gifts.”

Seri paused. “For who?”

“For us, silly! Come and see.”

Lotte grabbed Seri by the hand and pulled her into the hallway.

Brand had set the gifts on the dining room table, like it was a feast. Or perhaps a merchant’s stall. She noticed several bolts of rich cloth, spools of fine thread, and buttons. Ida ran her hand over the textiles, as Brand prattled on about the region and cost. Ida beamed at the gift. She even touched Brand’s arm as she thanked him. Seri rolled her eyes.

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“Hello, Seri,” Brand said. “Come to join us, I see.”

“Lotte’s doing,” Seri said.

“Thank you, Lotte. I have a new set of combs for you and some beautiful slippers. They’re yours. You can bring them home with you, when it’s time to leave.”

Home. Seri thought of her own things as she looked over the presents. She did not have satin gowns or silver brushes, but what she had was her own. Quilts her mother made, furniture passed through the generations, her own private diary, a small portrait of her sister. She wondered if she’d ever see her small treasures again.

“I have gifts for you, too, Seri,” Brand said. “Some new dresses.”

“I really have no need—” she began but stopped as he lifted them from off the table.

They were not the elegant gowns he preferred them wear, but simple, modest dresses, rather like the one she wore. Except newer and of higher quality. She moved forward to examine more closely. He’d bought her three dresses: one forest green, one midnight blue, and one ruby red. And with them were headdresses, bead jewelry, and boots.

It was strange how the dresses affected her. They shouldn’t affect her. He had money—probably from stealing—and to buy these things were no great hardship. But they were beautiful. They were dresses she wanted to wear. Why would he get these for her? Was he rewarding her for her compliance? Persuading her into his latest scheme?

“I hope you like them,” Brand said, and there was a slight note of uncertainty in his voice. “If not, feel free to modify them, as you like. Or tear them up as rags. But you do tend to wear the same dress over and over, so I thought—”

“Why now?” she asked.

He blinked. “Because I didn’t go shopping until this morning.”

“These aren’t freely given. You want something.”

“Men with gifts always do,” he said. He leaned his head toward her, and whispered conspiratorially into her ear, “Typically, men give women gifts in order to get the girl to like him.”

“But you aren’t typical.”

“How nice of you to notice.”

“You’re wicked and evil,” she clarified.

“You’re full of compliments today.”

Seri sighed. “Are you trying to get me to agree to the truth spell?”

“Oh, I see. You think this is a bribe. No,” Brand said. “I intended to get you these gifts before then. Partially to apologize for my exceedingly long absence. Partially because I’ve come to hate those ballgowns I picked out for you. You don’t look like yourself in them, and yes—” he added, as she began to open her mouth, “—I do realize the irony in me saying so.”

He, of course, was wearing an illusion, dressed in the face of a plump older man with red cheeks. She still had no idea what he really looked like. At this point, it didn’t really matter. The shifting visages were his appearance.

Seri looked back at the gowns. “If I must dress for dinner these dresses are… fine,” she conceded.

“Good.” He smiled. “I have one more surprise. It’s outside.”

He offered his arm. As usual, she refused to take it.

Seri had no idea what she’d see. The new chickens, perhaps? He opened the door, and Seri blinked into the sunlight. A gasp escaped her.

In a cart propped up against the wall, were pots and pots overflowing with lilies. The lilies were of all shapes and colors: yellow and white and tiger-striped. Some were in full bloom, and some were merely fronds, but they were lilies, all.

“I remembered you were cutting lilies when I met you, and the garden needed some new flowers, so I thought—” Brand stopped talking and peered at her. “Seri? Are you crying?”

Warm tears were trickling onto her cheeks. She couldn’t help it. Lilies were her mother’s favorite flower, and every time she saw them, she thought of her mother’s grave, the one she tended every day. Seri hadn’t thought much of her family—she couldn’t—but now the memories flooded her. She’d lost so much, even before she was kidnapped. Seri covered her face with her hand and stifled a sob.

“I’m sorry,” Brand said in a low voice. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I assumed you liked lilies, but if they cause you pain, I can remove them—”

“No!” she yelled.

She sniffed and tried to compose herself. As she removed her hand from her face, she noticed that Brand offered out a handkerchief. She took it from him and wiped her eyes.

“The flowers are beautiful,” she said quietly. “Please don’t take them away.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He paused and added, “I know this isn’t your home, Seri, but I want you to be comfortable here. I want you to have something of your own. These are yours now, for you to enjoy.”

She nodded. “Thank you,” she managed to say.

“You’re welcome,” he replied.