Acid churning in my belly, I wait to die.

"Take her to the prepared room."

The new voice must be Prince Franean, the head of House Caffaar. Tall and on the thinner side, with light blue hair and light blue skin, he looks almost faded, without any dimension. The lime green color of the outfit he's wearing doesn't do him any favors either.

He's obviously not the type to lead from the front if he just showed up.

I meet his eyes with a direct stare.

He sneers, but looks away, unable to maintain eye contact.

Doesn't want to face what he's actually doing, does he?

I have an urge to yell, scream, and hurl insults at this cowardly, dishonorable asshole but I keep my mouth shut as one of the guards takes me by the arm and leads me to the open front door. As satisfying as raging at Prince Franny-pants would be, antagonizing him isn't smart. Not when he holds all the cards and obviously harbors more than a strong dislike for Naefaren.

I bite my tongue and follow the guard into the House Mansion, trying to adopt a frightened, docile look. I don't know if I succeed, but nobody is really paying any attention to me anymore. That's good, though kind of insulting.

I scan the area as a guard marches us down a hall. We pass a sitting room, done in soft blues, the only color that could make Franean's outfit look even worse. Maybe he likes to sit in that room and blend in.

We turn a corner, go down another hall. And then one more. I'm starting to wonder if the guard is taking me to a legitimate dungeon when he stops in front of a door and lets go. He turns the key already in the lock, swinging it open with an ominous creak.

He gestures inside, his square jawed face impassive.

I look. It’s a pretty standard bedroom, nothing luxurious, but not a dungeon. It might as well have manacles hanging on the wall, if I go into that room, my options dwindle to nothing.

I can't let it happen if I can help it. Here's to hoping my acting skills are up to snuff.

I gasp, widening my eyes as I step back.

Come on, buddy. Investigate.

He frowns at me and then turns to the open doorway, his hand going to his sword as he steps just inside, looking for the threat.

I almost feel bad.

Almost.

Lifting my leg up, I brace it on the small of his back and push with everything I have.

He lets out a surprised sound as he stumbles inside and I slam the door shut, twisting the key in the lock. A millisecond later, the door and the frame shake as he throws his body against it. Probably not a good idea to stand around.

Heart pounding, I turn and run down the way we came. The layout looks pretty similar to Naefaren's, so I'm hoping the kitchen is around the same place. Leaving by the courtyard isn't an option, not with the possibility of all those guards still being out there along with Prince Franny-pants.

The kitchen should have a door leading out, where supplies are brought in. I almost hold my breath as I run past the front door but nobody walks in at the exact wrong moment. When I turn the corner, I breathe a small sigh of relief at he familiar clanking sounds and spice smells that mean kitchen.

Stopping at the open doorway, I try to keep my breaths silent as I peek inside. There’s a heavy set woman at the fire, stirring something with her back to me.

Across the room, the door leading out is wide open to allow air inside.

I'm not going to get a better opportunity.

Taking a deep breath, I sprint across the room and out the door.

As I step outside, she gives a startled cry as she realizes someone else was just in her kitchen but I'm already running down a narrow alley, trying to get as far as I can as quickly as I can.

The familiar sounds of people come from the left and I veer in that direction. I'm going to have to go through the marketplace to get to the gates in the border wall near the tunnel. I'm hoping I'll figure something out once I get there. It isn't like I can walk across the flat by myself with nobody noticing. In any case, I can't draw too much attention before I even get to the actual gates so I slow, walking to catch my breath as I reach an alley that opens up directly into the not so crowded marketplace.

This would be a lot easier if the crowds were thicker but I have to work with what I got. I pull up the hood of the lightweight cloak I'm wearing and keep moving. The prickle of eyes bores into my back as I exit the alley and walk purposefully toward the gates.

Running would be too obvious, but I don't want to dawdle either. I keep my head down, hoping the shadow from the hood helps obscure my pale skin.

Steady. I just need to make it to the gates.

At that thought, a groaning noise fills the air and I look up in alarm.

"Clear the area!" one of the guards yells from the top of the wall.

The gates are closing. That was the groaning sound.

Shit.

I turn around, walking back into the marketplace. There's no reason to close this early, this abruptly, unless they've discovered I'm missing.

There’s movement out of the corner of my eye.

Guards. Coming in from a few different alleys, their eyes scanning for someone.

My heart gives a painful thump. I need to hide.

I move toward another alley behind the stalls, on the opposite end of the square but abruptly turn away and keep moving through the shallow crowd as another guard appears where I was headed.

They're surrounding the marketplace.

As I look around discretely for another place to turn, sweat dampening my forehead, I meet an older pair of faded blue eyes. They look from me to the guards slowly closing in. He jerks his chin toward his booth, subtle but unmistakable.

I don't hesitate. I don't know him, but I know the guards aren't here to give me a hug and a pat on the back. I walk over, trying not to break into a run. I look down at what he has displayed, an array of different kinds of knives, their sharp edges glittering in the dim light.

I swallow.

Very reassuring.

I lean forward as if to peruse his wares.

He smiles, his attention behind me as he watches the guards. "If you need to hide, you may use my stall," he says under his breath, his eyes looking down before flipping back up to me.

I trail a finger over one of the hilts, feeling exposed. "It’s dangerous," I say, meeting his steady eyes set in a creased face.

Though he's obviously older, his dark hair streaked with white at the temples, he still stands tall, his shoulders wide under the brown leather of his hard vest, his arms muscled. The lack of colorful ornamentation on both his person and his knives tells me he must be from a Minor House.

"Life is dangerous," he says, his eyes kind. "I cannot think of a good reason why they would be attempting to apprehend an off world female." He glances behind me again. "If you do not decide now, they will be upon you."

Swallowing, I don't look back as I move around the booth. I really hope he doesn't have reason to regret this later. He opens up a cupboard under the counter where he has his knives out, there isn't enough room in there for me. But then he slides out a box that's a few feet deep, the back and bottom of which is open. It was hiding more space in the back.

"I use this to hide my more expensive pieces when need be," he explains. "If you climb inside the cupboard, I can cover you with it."

The space is small, but that will only be to my advantage.

"Thank you," I say sincerely.

He nods. "If you do not move, there will be nothing to thank me for," he warns.

He's right. I duck down and squeeze inside the cramped, dark space. I don't have claustrophobia, but it still isn't comfortable.

Then my savior slides the box cover over, closing me in even more. I breath shallowly as he closes the cupboard doors.

And then I wait.

The heat is oppressive as I lay curled in that dark corner, hoping I'm hidden well enough. Not only for my own sake, but also for my would be rescuer's. As I shift around quietly, I realize there’s a slight crack in one of the slats. Leaning closer, I fit my eye against it, trying to find out what’s happening outside.

Just as a pair of boots comes to stand right in front of me.

"Have you seen a human female? She is not sanctioned to be roaming the House without an escort."

"No, I have not," the older man says calmly. "Is she a danger?"

The guard hesitates. "Yes," he finally says. "If you see an unaccompanied human female, alert us immediately." A pause where I stare at his legs, urging them to move. "May I look inside your booth?"

Oh no.

"Yes, of course."

I watch the boots take a step. This could be it.

But then someone calls out.

"Over here!"

The guard turns and hurries away, his intention to search the booth sidelined and I let out a relieved breath, sweat sliding down my temple.

I'm not out of the woods yet. I stay cramped and huddled for what seems like hours, but has to be less, as guards search all the booths in turn, questioning everyone.

Eventually, the resounding groan tells me they've opened the gates again. A short while later, the doors to my hiding place open and the partial box covering me moves back.

I blink at the brighter light.

"You must climb into my crate," the man says in barely a whisper. "They have opened the gates. I will carry you to my carriage."

He moves back so I can see the crate he means.

Biting back a moan as I slowly crawl out, my body stiff from being in one position, I stay low as I slowly roll into the shallow crate, hidden by the height of the booth. As soon as I am inside, the man covers me in a tarp-like square, leaving a narrow space just over my head for me to breathe.

He starts placing other things on top of the tarp, the bulk pressing me further down. After a significant amount of weight is added above me, there’s the scrape of a lid being scooted into place. If I never have to be in a small, enclosed space again, I'll call my life a success.

I reach out to brace myself against the side as the box tilts a little. He must be picking me up. I try to stay still as we start to move, I'm not one to get motion sickness, but this is trying even for me.

Luckily, it isn't a long walk.

I'm placed back onto a flat surface that must be the carriage. There’s some more shuffling around and some thumps before the carriage sways and dips as a larger weight boards.

That must be him.

I try to breathe lightly as the carriage lurches into motion.

Almost there.

Come on.

I brace myself as we stop once again, biting back a grunt as my head hits the side of the crate.

"Where are you going?" a stern voice asks.

"House Fenah," my ride responds.

"What do you have in the carriage?"

"My wares and possessions."

A heavy pause.

"I need to look inside."

"Of course."

I hold my breath at the sounds of the carriage door opening. I agonize as the sounds of things being moved around, the scrape of lids comes from too close.

Then there’s scrape of my lid. Sheer terror threatens to explode my bladder.

Don't move.

"Knives?"

"Yes. It is a family trade."

"Hmm."

I can almost feel the guard's eyes scanning directly above me.

I don't even inhale, afraid it might make the objects on top of me move.

The scrape of the lid slides back into place.

I let out a silent sigh of relief, inhaling deeply. I’ve really got to pee!

They chat a bit more as the guard pumps him for information under the guise of a conversation but he finally lets us go, the answers he receives apparently sufficient.

The carriage lurches back into motion.

And we're out of House Caffaar's gates.