Chills shot across her skin. With Elon, she was certain she could take any interrogation techniques they threw at her. But without him...

The Reaper led her to a small tent before disappearing inside. Though she knew it was futile, she couldn't help but dig her heels into the ground before he finally pulled her inside with him.

A purple torch illuminated the area. A young woman rose when they entered, and her previously rumpled apron fell just below her knees. Judging from the symbol on her temple, and her blue eyes, she was a human. A quick sweep of the room revealed a narrow bed, a chest, and a stool on which the woman had been sitting.

Was this where her interrogation would take place?

With a cold hand to her shoulder, the Reaper urged her to sit on the stool. Then he fastened the end of her rope to the bed. Carissa heart thrummed within her chest, making her hands tremble with each beat. Was the young woman going to help them? Could Carissa possibly turn the woman to her side?

The young woman's face grew pinched as her eyes trailed the rope.

"What?" the Reaper asked.

"How am I supposed to dress her if her hands are bound as they are?"

Dress her? Why ever would they want her to change clothes? Maybe into attire more suitable for a prisoner?

"That's none of my concern."

The woman raised her eyebrows. "It's what Zorelle wants, and what she wants is your concern."

"Zorelle also wants to ensure she doesn't escape." The Reaper folded his arms, his sleeves flowing with the movement. "It seems we're at an impasse."

"There are ways to restrain someone without rope." The woman glanced at Carissa. "Your husband is here, isn't he?"

Her blood went cold. Though she'd wanted him to be with her, she didn't want the Reapers to use him against her either.

The woman nodded. "See how she paled? Just keep guard over her husband. I doubt she'll leave without him."

At least they weren't going to hurt Elon, but the woman was right: Elon tied her to the camp more effectively than any rope.

The Reaper nodded and began untying her wrists.

As soon as they were free, Carissa began chafing them, her fingers rubbing at the red marks left behind. Now that she was free, there had to be something she could do to help their escape. Maybe she could run away and get help to set Elon free? But where would she run? Who could she trust?

The woman nodded to the Reaper. "I have her from here."

The Reaper eyed Carissa once more before spinning and leaving, his black cloak billowing behind him. Who knew Reapers had a flair for the dramatic?

The woman snapped her fingers, bringing Carissa's attention to her. "We must get you dressed in a hurry. Zorelle doesn't like to wait for long." She turned around and approached the chest before rummaging through it.

The hot, sour taste of betrayal filled her mouth. This woman was supposed to be her ally. Instead, she'd made it impossible for Carissa to escape. Or had she? While the Reapers would never let Carissa leave this tent to see Elon, would they allow a human servant to do so?

Carissa crept up behind the servant, planting her steps soundlessly. When she stood behind the servant, she wrapped one arm around her torso and clasped her free hand over the woman's mouth.

As she felt the woman's intake of breath, she felt a slight twinge of guilt. After all, she was just a servant. If she didn't do what she was told, she'd likely be punished. But the only way she'd be free was if Carissa and Elon freed her. And to do that, they had to escape the camp. The woman would understand later.

Carissa whispered next to her ear, "I don't want to hurt you; I'm trying to help you."

The woman snorted, the air blowing against Carissa's fingers.

"I know you might not think so right now, but it's true. In order to help you, I need to escape."

Another snort. It seemed her speech wasn't going over very well.

"I'll make you a deal: don't scream, and I won't knock you unconscious. How does that sound?"

The woman nodded. Finally, she'd gotten something across to her.

Carissa slowly lifted her hand. A moment later, the woman's piercing scream filled the air. Carissa slapped a hand to the woman's mouth as the woman began struggling against her.

The opening to the tent began to lift. "What was—"

"Don't!" Carissa pinned the woman to the bed. Her eyes were glittering and angry. This was not going the way she'd planned.

The Reaper's cloak was visible beneath the fabric of the tent, where he stood hovering by the entrance. If he took one more step forward, it was all over for her. "What did you say to me, slave?"

He thought she was the woman. Maybe this could turn out well. "The Queen—she's–she's in a state of undress. It would be most inappropriate for you to come in."

"But why did she scream?"

Carissa scrambled for a believable lie. It was surprisingly difficult while trying to pin down a writhing woman. "She didn't scream; I did."

"And why did you scream?"

"Because–Because... The clothes she's wearing. They're really quite frightful, much too manly. I didn't realize until just now."

"And that was cause enough for you to scream?"

"Yes."

"Hmmm. I believe I should investigate, regardless of—" The Reaper entered the tent and faltered when he saw her.

Carissa offered him a weak smile. "Hi there."