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D aisy had never felt so lost, so panicked, so utterly, desperately terrified.

She didn’t know how long she spent yanking at the collar, the wall, the slim tinkling links of the chain. The collar had multiple sharp-feeling raised ridges in it, but no other obvious weak points, while the chain was so fine, so delicate, it should have been easy to break — but it was somehow as strong as a wire, as a thick braided rope. And it wasn’t until Daisy could smell the blood on her stinging hands that she finally stopped, gasping and trembling, licking at her sticky, shaky fingers. She couldn’t risk some kind of infection down here, she needed her hands to draw, to earn her livelihood —

But even that thought wrenched the miserable panic deeper, because maybe — maybe she would never draw again. Maybe she would never see the light again, maybe she would die alone here in the darkness. Maybe she would starve, or waste away to thirst or cold, filthy and terrified and alone, oh gods, oh gods —

The sobs consumed her then, wringing through her with staggering force, ripping her apart. She’d been so, so stupid. Again . Again .

It ended with her curled up on the cold filthy floor, her face buried in her raw, bleeding hands. What was she going to do? What could she do? There was no escape. No way out. No one who even knew that she’d gone, except for Lew — but then she’d written that damned note to Lew , at Filak’s behest. And surely that had been part of it too, right? Filak making sure he’d left no trail, no questions, no connections. No one to follow or blame.

The sobs wrenched through her again, weaker now, tinged with bitterness and loathing and despair. She’d been so stupid. So foolish. She’d trusted an orc, an orc , in the face of all rational sense, in spite of every blaring warning. She’d walked away from her life, her connections, her entire damned career, after Filak had already imprisoned her once, imposed his will on her, tattooed her, taken her, ruined her.

Gods, it made Lew look like a rational choice by comparison, like a brilliant enlightened catch. And what did it matter if Lew had only wanted her art, if he made love to beautiful women in Daisy’s bed, and told them his secrets…

But that only gouged the despair deeper, because it did matter, it did. It had ruined everything, all Daisy’s longings, all her quiet, hopeful, pathetic little dreams. Dreams of belonging with a partner who cared, having a career that mattered, making something worthy, being something worthy. A real artist, a desirable creative, wanted, needed, valued.

And Filak — Filak had drilled directly into that too, hadn’t he? He’d made Daisy feel wanted. Worthy . Important . Daisy mín. Sólin mín.

Daisy dragged her sticky hands down her wet face, as yet more gasping sobs ripped from her throat. So , so stupid. What was she going to do?

But then — a sound. A crackle of stone, and again, again. Almost like… footsteps .

Daisy’s heart kicked, and her head lurched up, her sticky hands trembling against her face. Was it — was it Filak again? Or someone else? Someone who could help her, or… or hurt her? And maybe she should hide, curl up, pretend to be dead, fight back the panic, the terror, the desperate all-consuming need to know —

“Filak?” her voice croaked, on its own, into the empty darkness. “ Is that you?”

The footsteps hesitated, and Daisy winced, shook her head, silently cursed herself. If anyone else was down here, it couldn’t be good, it had to be some cruel associate of Filak’s , maybe come to finish the job…

And now the footsteps were moving again, coming closer, faster and louder in her ears. And Daisy cowered, cringed back against the wall, bracing herself for — for —

“ Halló ?” asked a soft, unfamiliar voice, far too close. “ Hello ?”

Daisy flinched, and her eyes snapped up, blinking uselessly into the darkness. “ Hello ?” she asked back, her voice wavering. “ Wh -who are you?”

There was an instant’s shocked-feeling stillness, and then something that sounded like a low murmured curse. And then a harsh scrape, something clanging hard and metallic, flicking orange and bright —

And suddenly, there was light. Light , fire, blazing so bright Daisy had to cover her eyes. It was some kind of torch, the new person was holding it, and Daisy squinted through the dazzling light, desperately searching for the newcomer’s face.

It was… it was…

Another orc .

Daisy’s heartbeat blared in her ears, and her body scrabbled back against the wall, her hands frantically yanking at the chain, trapped, doomed. “ Oh gods,” she gasped, and she shouldn’t be talking, she shouldn’t, stupid, stupid . “ P -please, please don’t hurt me, I d-didn’t do anything, I’m sorry, I’m sorry —”

For an instant, the new orc just stared at her, his eyes wide — and it vaguely occurred to Daisy’s panicked brain that he didn’t look like Filak at all. He was tall and slim, yes, and had the same pointed ears, and black claws where his fingernails should have been — but his unmarked skin was a silvery light grey, and he had a full head of straight black hair, pulled back into a neat braid. And he was dressed in a simple tunic and trousers, with slim leather boots, and a black cloak slung over one shoulder. He looked almost — handsome, and Daisy wasn’t following, her eyes blinking hard, her head twitching back and forth. No . No . He was still an orc, he could still be here to hurt her, to kill her.

But the orc had backed a step away, his face looking almost as alarmed as Daisy felt — and then he groped sideways with his hand, and propped the torch into a bracket on the wall. Illuminating this small, stone room, with its low stone ceiling, with loose rocks and rubble scattered all over. And when he turned to face her again, both his hands were upraised, his claws somehow pulled back deep into his fingers.

“There is naught to fear, woman,” he said, though his voice wavered, his eyes still very wide. “ I shall not harm you. I swear to you.”

Oh. Oh , gods. Daisy quivered all over, and she couldn’t bite back her sob, weak with terror and relief and hope. “ Filak ,” she gasped, as she glanced furtively beyond the new orc. Toward — toward the steel grate behind him, now propped slightly open, almost as if this was a dungeon. A prison .

“D-do you know Filak ?” she choked, toward the orc. “ What if he c-comes back, he — he might h-hurt me, he —”

Her teeth had begun chattering, her body shuddering, and the new orc’s eyes snapped even wider, his skin paler than before. “ Filak did this to you?” he asked, and his voice faltered, too. “ B -but your scent, and the…”

His wide eyes flicked to Daisy’s neck, and she winced and gripped her stinging hands at the metal collar, as another hoarse sob escaped her throat. “ Filak — kidnapped me,” she gulped. “ He b-brought me here, and put this — this chain on me, and trapped me here, and then” — she dragged for air — “he left !”

It sounded like a cry, a wounded helpless wail, as if Filak leaving had been the worst part of all that. And somehow, curse her, maybe it had. She’d wanted him to stay, to touch her and comfort her and speak to her, to call her sólin mín , Daisy mín …

But there was no judgement in the new orc’s eyes, only sympathy, and perhaps more confusion, too. “ But ,” he said, his brow furrowing, as his hand waved toward Daisy’s trembling body, toward her neck. “ But are you not… Filak’s mate?”

Filak’s mate . Daisy stared at the orc, her heartbeat erratically skipping, and for an instant, there was the strangest urge to say… yes . Because yes, of course that was what it had all meant, right? Filak’s stroking hands, his furious hunger, his body learning hers, subduing her to his will. Crushing her ring, marking her with his sun, coming back for her, claiming her on a kitchen table, making his meaning all too clear. Mine , mine, mine…

“Filak’s… mate?” Daisy echoed, too late, her voice cracking. “ W -what is that? Why — why would you think that?”

The orc blinked at her, and his mouth twisted into something bitter, maybe even sad. “ You … bear Filak’s fresh scent,” he replied, with another wave of his hand toward her. “ And his mating-bite. And his mark. And his kraga .”

What? Daisy stared at the orc for a breath, and then clapped her shaky hand to her neck. Toward where yes, Filak had bitten her back in the apartment, and she’d entirely forgotten that, amidst everything else — but she could still feel it there, in her very skin. The place where his teeth had punctured her, and left a distinct set of faint indents behind. Not twinging even a little, as if the wounds had somehow already healed, and…

“What do you mean by — his mark?” Daisy asked, over that deeply unsettling thought. “ And what — what’s a kraga ?”

The orc blinked at her again, his mouth twisting even tighter. “ His mark,” he said, as his hand skittered to his chest, spread over his tunic. “ Written over your heart. For the Nor -ka-esh — Filak’s kin — this holds great weight, and for him to sign you there, with his own mark, in his own ink, by his own hand, it is…”

His voice trailed away, and Daisy blinked downwards, toward where yes, that sun was still visible, drawn in thick black ink over her heart. Filak’s mark ? In his own ink, his own hand? And what the hell did Nor -ka-esh mean, why did this hold great weight…

Sólin mín. Daisy mín.

“And the kraga ,” the orc continued, his voice slightly hitching, as his hand slid up to trace against his own throat. “ The jewel you wear, around your neck. It is our clan’s deepest sign of fealty. It is” — his swallow was audible in the silence — “ Filak’s promise to care for you, and keep you safe and content and fulfilled, for all the rest of your days.”

What? Daisy might have laughed, if not for the strange sadness in the orc’s eyes, in his voice. The quiver of something almost like — like grief, shuddering out around him.

But it didn’t make sense, none of it made sense, and — Daisy’s hand tugged helplessly at her throat, her kraga — whatever this orc was claiming, it was all surely a mistake. Or failing that, a mockery, or even a punishment. Filak hadn’t wanted her, he certainly hadn’t meant to care for her, let alone make her his mate . Stupid , stupid, stupid .

“Well,” she said thickly, “there’s obviously been some misunderstanding, because Filak — he kidnapped me. He trapped me here, left me here, alone. He stuffed my own art in my mouth, he wouldn’t listen to me, he told me —”

Her mouth had begun wobbling, the water prickling painfully behind her eyes, and she drew in a shaky breath. She hadn’t understood his words, no — but she’d understood him . Hadn’t she?

“He told me — he was wrong,” she croaked, between her gasping breaths. “ He told me he didn’t care about me. He told me my art was worthless. He told me… I’m worthless.”

The sobs finally fully escaped again, tearing out of her convulsing throat, breaking her apart. While the orc just stared, his own throat bobbing, his eyes glimmering far too bright. As if he knew. As if he… understood.

“Will you help me,” Daisy whispered, pleading, her hand over her heart, as if to hide away Filak’s sun, his mark, his mistake. “ Please ?”

And the orc — nodded. Nodded , quick and fervent, his own hand over his heart, his eyes solemn and sad on hers.

“Ach, sister,” he said. “ I will.”