It happened so fast that she didn't really have time to think and ask questions until afterward.

She had been dancing. The only attire that she wore differently than her fellow "ladies" at the Golden Cat were the satin ballet slippers instead of the heeled boots. She also sang to her increasingly drunken guest:

"Love is a distant aroma at best

A withering smile that's stuck deep in your vest

At night air it wraps its fingers around

Your body it shakes from the now distant sound

Of the sound of her voice

A sweet symphony

Played over and over

Until you are free—"

During the next moment, he had seized her and was being extremely rough with her. Normally he'd have been too clumsy by this point to actually hurt her, but when she smelled the whiskey on his breath, her blood had gone cold. This particular regular was always meaner when he had whiskey and he'd had quite a bit before seeking out her company. The bottle of liquor had gotten knocked aside, spilling all over the floor. When Ana resisted, he struck her in the face rather hard. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth and traced a line across her now deathly-pale skin into her short raven-black hair. Her dark green eyes were reddened with tiredness and now sparkling with tears. She'd done her best to fight him off, but he hit her again and again. She was dangerously close to blacking out when his hands went to her throat.

Then, all at once, the pressure was released. The baron was dragged backward into the shadows by an unseen person and she heard him gurgle, gag, and then go still. Heart thundering, she sat up, wide-eyed.

The figure stepped out of the shadows and her mouth dropped open in shock. In place of flesh, she saw a grotesque metal mask. Her heart thundered and she only had time to wonder if he meant to kill her or to help her.

Then, several guards came stampeding up the stairs. Thinking fast, she grabbed the scarlet blanket off the bed, threw it over him, and shoved him down. She jumped on the bed with him just as the guards came bursting in. She hoped that the baron was out of sight enough that they wouldn't see him—the drape mostly covered him.

The guard in front stopped abruptly, thinking he had walked in on something. Ana was sweating profusely, breathing hard, and the straps of her camisole were sliding down her shoulders. She had just wiped the blood away from her lips clumsily with her hand. Luckily, the light was dim.

"I…uh….beg your pardon," the guard said awkwardly, his face reddening, "but have you seen this man?"

He held up a poster. A strikingly good likeness of the masked man she now hid under the covers was sketched there.

"As a matter of fact, I did see him just now," Ana said, "he went out that window and onto the ledge. If you hurry, you can still catch him."

"After him!" the guard barked, sprinting toward the window. Someone had the discretion to close the door. And Ana had to stifle her laughter in her hands.

"Stay here for a moment," she hissed to the lump under the covers, "I'll go see if they're gone yet."

She hurried out of the bed, almost tripping over the tangled sheets in her haste. Peering out through the keyhole, she watched as the floor grew quiet again. The covers never so much as rustled—she wondered if this "masked felon" that they were chasing even breathed.

She came back and lifted the corner of the velvet bedspread.

"All clear," she whispered, "thank you for helping me. I just wish I knew your name so I could thank you properly."

And for reasons she couldn't explain, she hugged him. It only lasted for a second and he didn't return it. Once he was out the door, he slipped out of sight so quickly that she wondered if he'd been there to begin with. Sighing, she knelt over the drunk baron. With immense difficulty, she hauled him into the bed and covered him up. With any luck, he wouldn't remember what transpired when he woke and he wouldn't come looking for her for a while. She retreated to her own room, listening intently. The guards had dispersed back to their posts. It suddenly occurred to her that the next room over was very, very quiet. She knew that there was a little girl named Emily in there, the late Empress's daughter. Normally she would be pacing around in there out of boredom, singing, or sometimes talking to her mother. Ana tiptoed across the floor and carefully avoided the boards that she knew creaked. Sure enough, the door to Emily's impromptu prison cell was wide open and the girl was gone.

She grinned.

I wonder if those two things were related? She wondered. She wasn't especially fond of children, but this one had reminded her so much of herself—the dark hair, the dark eyes, and the strong desire to draw (even if it was on walls). When Madame Prudence had refused to bring her food as punishment for her escape attempts, Ana stolen some from the kitchens and the platters laid out for their guests and ensured that Emily had a feast. Besides, she despised Madame Prudence and decided to get back at her in whatever way she could even if it was something that small.

I hope you both make it, she thought warmly, Void knows I wish I could.