Seri took a few breaths. She took a sip of water. She had to go into the room with him. Not because he said so, but because she needed to understand him. That was all she had to do right now. Learn. Learn so she could make a decision—so she would know the right way to act.

Seri staggered to her feet and walked into the room.

Brandeis’s private room resembled a salon. There was a fireplace that glowed warmly, and a number of chairs, including a rather large sofa, so wide and long, it might be used as a bed. Seri avoided this and sat in the plainest chair she could find. There were tables with board games and books and rugs and windows with curtains—and, best of all, not one mirror.

Brandeis was relaxing on a chair, drinking a small goblet of wine and looking through a book of pictures.

“Good evening, Seri,” he said. “Do you mind if I call you that? Serihilde is so long and difficult.”

“Don’t call me that,” she said. Her mother called her that. Her father called her that. People she loved called her that—not him.

“Do you have a name you prefer?” he asked. “No? Seri, it is then.” He turned to his book. “Such beautiful, detailed drawings. Want to see?”

He held it up, and she cringed, half expecting some pornography.

“Birds,” he said. “From around the world. Not interested?”

He threw it away.

“What do you like?” he asked, standing up.

“Honest answers.”

He sighed. “How boring.”

“Only a dishonest man would think so.”

“I haven’t lied to you.”

“You only wear different faces.”

“Is there a question you want answered?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then, ask,” he said. “That is why we are here.”

Seri’s hands gripped her skirt, wrinkling the fabric. “What do you want?”

“Why, the pleasure of your company.”

“No,” she said. “Why did you bring me here—all these girls here? What do you want from us? Why have you imprisoned us and threatened us and forced us to act like a haram of doting wives. If you want a wife or a mistress or a whole brothel, why not go about getting them the normal way? You have wealth and power enough. What is the point of this?”

She stood up and stared him in the eye. Not his real eyes, but it didn’t matter. His disguise was nothing more than a mask. Somewhere behind it was his real face, his real mind. A cracked, mad, devious mind, no doubt. It might be she could not even understand it. But she had to try.

He gazed back at her for several long moments, then blinked and looked away. “You have too many questions for a first meeting,” he said, drinking another swallow of wine. “How about we start with one question each? A simple yes-or-no question. I ask one of you, you ask one of me, and we get to know each other.”

She shook her head.

“What’s the harm in it?”

“I’m honest. You are not. You’ll answer whatever suits you.”

“As I said, I haven’t lied.”

“Yet.”

He looked at her. “All right,” he said, coyly. “How about this? I’ll do a truth binding. One simple question from each of us, requiring a yes or no answer. Does that suit you?”

“You can force me to speak?”

“Not force,” he said. “You have to agree to it. This binding requires the consent of both parties or it doesn’t work. You consent to speak the truth to me—the magic enforces it. I agree to speak the truth to you—and the magic enforces it.”

Seri licked her lips. “But I don’t know this spell. How can I be sure it works?”

“Because you can sense magic,” he said. “Not many can. You’ll know. Now do you want to have answers or not?”

Seri ground her jaw. Yes, she wanted to know. But she did not want him to have power over her. And she was afraid if she gave him permission, he might use it against her in some awful way.

“What do I need to do?” she asked.

It was not an agreement, but he took it as one. He snapped his fingers, and she felt these threads go inside her, into her mind and her lungs, like tiny little hairs. It felt odd. At the same time, she could feel the threads going up to him.

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“Say, ‘I, Serihilde, consent to answer truthfully yes or no to one question Brand asks.’”

“You say it first.”

He sighed. “I, Brandeis, consent to truthfully ask one yes or no question Serihilde asks, in this room tonight, provided she answer one of mine’s first.”

His wording, she noted, was rather more complex. “I, Serihilde, consent to answer one yes or no question Brandeis asks.”

She felt the magic lock, the hair-like fibers turn to steel.

“There, it’s done.”

“You gave us your real name,” she said.

“The world is drowning in names. Mine isn’t worth much.”

There was a touch of irony and more than a little bitterness in those words. She hadn’t recognized the name, so she assumed he must be obscure—but to have all this? What did it mean?

“My question—” she began.

“No,” he cut her off. “I ask first. Are you a virgin?”

She jerked up and felt a blush rising to her cheeks. She wanted to ask him how dare he presume to ask that of her, or maybe not answer at all, but she found the words forming in her throat and her mouth opening against her will.

“Yes,” she spat out.

“There,” he said. “Not so hard.”

“Why would you ask me that?” she said.

“That is not a yes or no question, and I am not required to answer. But since you want to know, I will tell you. You see, as much as you women may pretend to be honest and innocent, I know many ladies who will lie to men’s faces when asked this very simple question. Congratulations on holding onto your virtue for so long. Many girls do not.”

“Yes,” Seri said, “though not always by fault of their own. But I don’t presume to think you follow up your purity test with the question of whether they gave their virginity away or had it forcibly removed. Nor do I suppose you care one way or the other. To men it is always the woman’s fault.”

Brand grimaced and looked sideways. “What is your question?”

“Do you kill girls after they yield to you?”

His head shot back toward her. “No,” he said. “I’m not a murderer.”

The tendrils of magic faded into thin air. Seri breathed a sigh of relief, both to be rid of the spell and to know at least that these pleasantries were not a prelude to murder.

“So what do you do with them, after they give you want you want?” She was aware that the truth part was over, but she to ask.

“I break the curse and send them home. Like I promise,” Brand said. “I am a gentleman. I would never hurt an innocent woman.”

Seri uttered a nervous laugh.

“You don’t believe me?” he asked.

“How could I? Such blatant lies. You plucked me from my home, smothered me in a carpet, tied me to a bed and forced some sort of curse into my body. On what basis do you think you did me no harm? Or am I supposed to be grateful you didn’t rape and murder me.”

He stood up, and Seri could see she’d gotten a reaction from him. He stalked over to her, and she braced herself. There was something about his eyes, a very deep and smoldering anger.

“You presume you’re innocent?” he asked softly.

“I told you I’m a virgin.”

“I don’t care that you’ve managed to keep your legs closed up until now.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“Because I wanted to see what sort of person you are?”

“Based on that?”

“You said you’re honest. But you women create your illusions, too. Don’t pretend otherwise. I merely want to see through them.”

“You’re judging us?” she asked. “You, who wear a mask. You, with all the power at your disposal, have nothing better to do with your life than to steal women, put them in a cage, peel back the layers of their soul, and judge their virtues like some self-righteous god?”

He stepped back.

Seri drew a breath. She was shaking again. She sank into her chair. Her head was spinning, and yet fear mingled with a morbid sort of thrill. It felt good to tell him what was on her mind, even if she realized she was putting herself in danger.

“This has been an interesting conversation,” he said. “Perhaps, we should continue it some other time. But you’ve had a long day. I’m sure you’re ready for bed now. I will escort you to your room.”

“No, thank you.”

“Do you know your door?” he asked.

She blinked.

“I thought not.” He picked up a candelabra. “Take my arm and I will show you.”

She did not take his arm, but he did lead her out to the waiting room and point out the door to her room. Once she knew the door, she turned so that she was facing him, watching to see if he tried to follow her up. Instead, he tilted his head, smiled, and bowed.

“Good night, Lady Seri. Sweet dreams.”

* * *

Needless to say, Seri did not have sweet dreams. She hardly slept and when she did, she was haunted by images of Brand’s many faces, by the feeling of invisible cords pinning her down and dragon fire burning her from the inside out. She threw up twice during the night, mostly water and bile. But when she finally woke, late in the morning, she had an epiphany.

She understood him. Or at least, she knew what he wanted.

Brand had power, that was clear, but the way he used it was subtle. Last night, after she refused to join him in his room, he could have bound her in magic and pulled her in. Instead, he spoke softly and waited for her to join him. Similarly, he might have forced himself upon the girls, but he didn’t. They said as much. He never touched them. Instead, he waited for them to reach out to him, to take his hand. And though he might have raped each and every one of the girls as soon as they arrived, instead he waited for them offer their bodies.

He wanted the girls to choose to submit to him.

To bend, not just their bodies, but their wills to him. It was his desire to prove women were not these pure and innocent creatures—he’d told her as much last night. Why he wanted to do this, she did not understand. Nor did she need to. Suffice it to say that him being subtle did not make his actions any less evil. It only made the truth of the situation harder to see.

But now that she saw it, she knew what she needed to do. To resist him. To choose not to submit her body or her will to him.

Seri gnawed her lip. Granted, if she did resist him, it would anger him, and he might then use his power in an overt way. He might strike her or beat her. Tie her down and rape her. But that was his intention anyway, she decided. It was just a matter of whether she would play into his mad delusion or not. She would not. He would hear the truth, no matter the consequences to her, because that was the only right thing to do.

With that, she went downstairs and ate breakfast. Bread, fruit, and sausage were arranged on the long table, though only a few girls were awake and eating. Seri drank down several glasses of fresh water and devoured her food. She no longer feared being poisoned, because what would be the point of that?

“You seem better,” Lotte said.

“Much better,” Seri said. “Last night was enlightening.”

She nodded. “He’s not so bad once you get to know him.”

“Oh, he’s a monster,” Seri said. “A complete and utter monster, but one I now understand. Believe me, I have no intention to bowing down to any of his whims.”

Lotte blinked. “He has magic. He’ll make you do it.”

“Then let him make me,” Seri said. “If he wants to use magic, he is more than able. But he will not make me choose to give him anything. Not my time, not my voice, not my supplication.”

“You’re crazy.”

“It is he who is crazy. I just refuse to be caught up in it.” She shoved a piece of bread into her pocket. “Now can you show me around this place. I want to test some boundaries and see just what holds.”