She lined up alongside the women and men she had known for seven months now, all of them shuffling their feet and trying to avoid looking at each other. The hall they stood in was vast and cold, but clearly part of a very prestigious estate with intricate carvings in the marble walls. Her fists clenched as she tried in vain to stop herself from shaking.

"Three, I think," a booming voice carried across the room as the double doors at the end of the hall swung open. Bethany looked down at her feet, too afraid to catch a glimpse of the man who was beginning to walk slowly along the gathering of slaves. She attempted to drown out his voice by slipping into her usual daydream of happier days in the fields of Lothering with her brothers, but today the memories would not come and the voice became louder as he progressed down the line.

"This one is young and fit. Should make a good estate guard," the man said. "Yes. I will take him."

Bethany closed her eyes as she saw the magister's feet and the hem of his robes appear in front of her.

"Ah. What have we here?" he said, and even though she could not see his face she knew he was grinning. She felt a finger underneath her chin, forcing her head up.

"Open your eyes." This was a direct command she knew she could not refuse, and she slowly cracked her eyelids open to see the older man standing in front of her, his eyes roving up and down her body as if he were appraising cattle.

"Very nice," he said, stretching out a hand and running his palm from her shoulder, across her breasts and belly and down to her hip. She struggled to suppress a shudder. "Yes, very nice indeed. I will take her."

He moved on without a backward glance as her master – no, her former master – pulled her roughly backwards out of line and handed her over to a menacing-looking elf with silvery lines scored into his skin. The elf clipped a shackle over her arm with a chain running from it to an identical shackle on the arm of the scared young man who had been chosen before her. The pair of slaves were led down the hall and were joined by an older woman who was the third to be purchased that day. Their new master looked them over one final time before nodding once, and the elf led them all away to the small cramped cells which would be their new quarters.

Bethany was quickly sent to work in the kitchens with the older woman, who she knew as Jemima. This was familiar work for her, as it was what she had been doing for the past seven months with her former master. She was a good cook and worked hard. She almost enjoyed the work at times, throwing herself into her baking and concentrating on flour and spices so that she would forget that she was not here by choice. The other slaves were quiet and did not disturb her thoughts, and she often thought that her life could be a lot worse.

Each day, the elf would come to the kitchens to supervise the preparation of the meals for their new master, Magister Danarius. He would make sure that no ingredients were added which could cause the magister harm, and each day would instruct one of the kitchen staff to taste the food before it was served. The elf – Fenris, his name was - was aloof and difficult to read, and Bethany often found herself watching him from under her eyelashes. He fascinated her; he was handsome and strong and like nobody she had ever met in her life before, but he had never once spoken to her or any of the other slaves other than to give abrupt orders in a low, sonorous voice. While he was a slave himself, he appeared to have status within the magister's assemblage and Danarius almost seemed to have respect for him. She sometimes found herself thinking about him at night instead of her usual dreams about her family.

It was a quiet evening and the magister was dining alone for once, so the only people at work in the kitchen were Bethany and the chief cook, a bossy if lazy woman. Bethany was baking bread, and the balls of dough were on a tray in the oven but the oven was stubbornly failing to light. She cursed under her breath as she tried again to light the strips of wood and watched the flame gutter and die.

She looked up to see where Cook was, and noted that she was headed into the pantry to get vegetables. Quickly, Bethany sparked a flame from her fingers and sent a small fireball into the logs, which immediately kindled and began to burn. She slid the tray into the bread oven with a small sigh of relief, and turned back to the counter…

…looking straight into the green eyes of Fenris, who had appeared in the doorway and was watching her with a raised eyebrow.

"I think you and I need to have a little talk," he said softly. Her knees weakened in fear and she felt her mouth opening and closing like a fish as she stared at him helplessly.

"Cook!" he shouted to the portly woman who was struggling back under a small pile of greens. "You will have to manage dinner by yourself tonight. I have orders to bring this girl to the magister."

"Leave me by myself to struggle, of course. Never mind poor old Cook, been on her feet for the last seven hours. I don't know why you think you are so important," Cook grumbled, but did not attempt to stop Bethany as she wobbled out of the kitchen behind the elf, white with terror.

They did not get far when Fenris stopped and pushed her up against the wall, his face inches from hers and his lips curled in distaste.

"You will tell me what happened back there and why you are keeping this a secret," he hissed, eyes flashing.

"I… I'm sorry, I won't do it again," she said, stuttering over her words.

"That's not what I asked," he said. "You are a mage, a mage and a slave. This does not make sense. What do you gain from hiding this? What are you planning?"

"I'm not planning anything," she said, shaking her head violently. "I was born with magic, but I do not want… I cannot be like these people. Magic does bad things to people here, turns them into the sort of people who terrify me, who hurt others. I do not want that."

Fenris frowned, taking in her words. "So you would rather this, to live as a slave? You could have more."

"I am not willing to pay the cost," Bethany sighed, casting her eyes to the floor. "I would rather die than use others like this."

"An honourable mage?" Fenris snorted, disbelieving. "I never thought I would see the day."

"Please," she grabbed his arm, then flinched as he pulled away from her grasp suddenly. "Please don't tell anyone. I promise I won't use magic again."

The elf sighed, stepped back. "You confuse me. Go, then, back to the kitchen. But know I will be watching you carefully. I do not trust you."

Bethany dipped her head and scurried back to help Cook with the dinner, Fenris following a few steps behind.

Fenris was as good as his word. He was like Bethany's shadow in the kitchen, and she felt his eyes on her almost exclusively as she went about her tasks. Even after the meal was served, he would wait and walk her back to her quarters before returning to his guard duties. At first he was silent, even his footsteps almost inaudible as he followed her and ensured she was safely locked away for the night. Several weeks went past like this, before one day she heard him clear his throat behind her.

"Do you feel you are treated well here?"

She stopped suddenly, shocked at the sound of his voice. She felt him close behind her, his breath hot on her neck.

"I would be lying if I said I did not miss my old life. But… I am treated well enough. I know things could be worse for me." She had seen the way some of the slaves were treated, worked until they dropped and whipped if they fell. And the body slaves, passed around at the magister's regular parties. She often had to serve the food at these parties, and shivered at the sight of the dead-eyed young men and women who were paraded half-naked and shining with oil, being selected in turn to service the guests' every need. She knew that could easily have been her, had she not been so quiet and compliant. As a virgin, she would have been quite the prize.

"You are lucky to remember your old life," Fenris said, almost painfully. She turned to look him in the eye, taking a step back as she found her lips inches from his. His brows were knitted and he looked thoughtful. She wondered what he meant by that, what had brought him to his current position in the magister's household.

"Do not trust anyone," Fenris continued, his voice low. "Everything can change in an instant. And promises can mean nothing at all."

She swallowed as she felt his gaze on her face, intense and powerful.

"Why are you telling me this?" She almost blanched at her own audacity to ask such a question, but the elf did not react.

He sighed. "I do not know. Truthfully, it is nice to have someone to talk to. I apologise, if I have overstepped the mark."

Apologies, from the taciturn elf? Bethany shook her head, bewildered. "You have not. I am just unsure why you have chosen to speak to me. You said you do not trust me."

Fenris chuckled suddenly, a surprising sound in the quiet of the hallway. "I take my own advice, Bethany. I do not trust anyone. You are simply the only person I have been alone with for as long as I can remember, except for the Magister and his cronies."

"Oh." Bethany was suddenly lost for words. She realised with a jolt that he knew her name.

"I am sorry," Fenris said, "I am taking up your time. Let's go."

Bethany shrugged and turned, heading back to her tiny room where she spent the rest of the night struggling to sleep as she thought of the elf's face, the curve of his lips, the pain and heat in his eyes.

The following day as she walked into her room, Fenris hesitated in the doorway.

"May I come in?"

She widened her eyes and felt her body tense, standing still and taut.

"No – it's not that," Fenris said hastily. "I just thought… you might like some company?" He produced a pack of cards from a pocket in his tunic and waved them at her.

She relaxed slightly, although was still confused. "I've never played."

"I had to learn to entertain Danarius and his guests. I could teach you? If you would like?"

Bethany nodded cautiously. This was an odd but not unwelcome development. She had spent far too many evenings locked in her room, lonely and lost in unhealthy thoughts. Perhaps she needed a friend, even if it was to be found in unexpected places.

Fenris spent nearly an hour sitting on the floor of her room, patiently teaching her the rules of Diamondback. Bethany was a slow learner, and had she been gambling she would have been in trouble, but she found Fenris surprisingly easy company and after he had returned to Danarius' side, she realised that she had smiled that night for the first time in what felt like months.

They fell into a routine over the next few weeks. He watched silently as she busied herself in the kitchen, then fell into step beside her as she walked back to her room. He would sit with her for around an hour, sometimes playing cards, sometimes just talking or sitting in companionable silence before leaving her with her thoughts.

She told him about her family; her quiet and noble mother, the father who she had idolised and from whom she had inherited her magic abilities. Her brothers, who had teased her mercilessly as she grew up, but whom she missed more than life itself. She wondered aloud where they were now, whether they still thought about her.

"I imagine you are hard to forget," Fenris said softly, stroking back her hair. She leaned into him instinctively, her head resting on his shoulder. She rarely spoke of her family, and she felt vulnerable opening up to this man, who had quickly become her only confidante.

"Your family sound wonderful," he said after a short silence, a real longing in his voice.

"What about your family, Fenris?"

He sighed deeply and she felt him swallow hard. "I don't remember my family. I remember nothing before I received these," he said, one finger tracing the lyrium brands on the back of his other hand.

"Nothing at all?" She was surprised.

"The pain was such… it took everything from me, all my memories. I lost everything for these markings. Sometimes I think that this is preferable. If I remembered… then I think it might be harder for me to endure. Knowing what I had lost."

She sat up and looked him in the eye, looked at the pain in his face. "Do you ever wonder…?"

He cut her off. "All the time. I look at every elvhen face, wondering if she's my mother, if he is my brother. But nobody ever recognises me. I don't know what I would do if someone did."

She reached out, touched his cheek. He turned away from her, rose to his feet.

"I have taken up enough time tonight. I will see you tomorrow?"

"Of course, Fenris."

He leaned forward and brushed his lips across her cheek before leaving and locking her door behind him, as he always did. She stood for a long time afterwards, looking at the door, her fingers touching her cheek where his kiss had fallen.