I found her in the eastern garden, perched on a stone bench beneath flowering trees I couldn't name. The sun caught in her white hair, turning it silver. She looked like she belonged here, surrounded by the exotic plants Ross cultivated. Like she had always been meant to sit beneath purple blossoms, with her face tipped toward warmth.

  I hesitated at the edge of the cobblestone path. Three days since we'd found her in that cellar. Three days of her avoiding my gaze. Of her retreating when I entered rooms. Three days of watching Selwyn sit outside her door like a faithful hound while I prowled the halls of Ross's mansion, a caged animal with too much energy and nowhere to direct it.

  The bruises around her wrists had faded from angry purple to sickly yellow-green. Progress, the doctor had said.

  Selwyn said to give her space. Ross suggested patience. But patience had never been my strength. Not in business, not in pleasure, certainly not when it came to Joy.

  I stepped onto the path. The stones crunched beneath my boots.

  Her shoulders tensed. She didn't turn.

  "Joy." Her name felt different on my tongue now. No longer a demand, but a question.

  She shifted on the bench, making room without looking at me. An invitation. Or perhaps just politeness.

  The morning air carried a chill despite the sunlight. I'd left my jacket behind, and goosebumps prickled along my arms as I sat beside her, leaving space between us. The breeze carried the scent of her soap—something with lavender that Clover must have given her.

  "I hoped to find you here." I clasped my hands between my knees, staring at the garden path rather than at her. "Ross said you've been coming to the gardens in the mornings."

  Her eyes remained fixed on some distant point beyond the garden wall. "It feels good to be outside."

  The words hung between us. Simple. True. After her imprisonment, of course she would crave open sky. Freedom from walls and locks and ropes that cut into flesh.

  "Joy, I—" I stopped, uncertain how to continue. What could I possibly say? Sorry seemed hollow. Useless. An insult to what she'd endured. "I brought something for you."

  Now she turned. Just her head, just enough to see me from the corner of her eye. The bruise on her cheekbone had faded to a dull green, almost matching the leaves above us.

  I reached into my pocket and withdrew a small object wrapped in blue silk. Her fingers didn't move to take it, so I unwrapped it myself, revealing her collar. The purple Garrthor gems caught the light, throwing fractured color across our laps.

  Her eyes widened. For the first time since we'd found her, genuine emotion crossed her face. Not the careful blankness she maintained, not the polite mask. Something raw.

  "You got it back." Her voice was barely audible.

  I nodded. "From one of Annabeth's girls. Dario gave it to her."

  "And now you want me to wear it again." Not a question. A statement flat with resignation.

  "No." I set the collar on the bench between us. "I want you to decide what happens to it."

  She blinked rapidly, still not meeting my eyes. A sparrow landed on the path near our feet, pecking at something invisible between the stones. Joy watched it with unusual intensity.

  "It's yours now." I pushed it closer to her side of the bench. "To keep, to sell, to throw into the sea. Whatever you want."

  "It's not mine." Her fingers hovered over the gems without touching them.

  The sparrow fluttered away, startled by something we couldn't see. I watched it disappear into the flowering trees, envying its simple freedom.

  "You were never mine." The admission scraped my throat raw. "I took advantage of a situation I didn't understand."

  Something flickered behind her eyes. Surprise, perhaps. The corner of her mouth twitched downward.

  Her lips pressed together. "So, what am I, Jacobi?"

  "I don't know anymore." I looked at her profile, at the determined set of her jaw. "But I'd like to find out. If you'll let me."

  Something shifted in her posture. Not relaxation, exactly. But the defensive curve of her spine softened slightly.

  "Why?" She picked up the collar, weighing it in her palm. The metal caught the light, sending a purple reflection dancing across her pale fingers.

  "Because—" I stopped, searching for words that wouldn't sound like I was trying to reclaim her. "Because what happened to you was my fault."

  Her head snapped toward me, silver eyes flashing with sudden anger. "Is that what this is? Guilt?"

  I didn't flinch from her gaze. "Partly. I won't lie to you about that."

  "I chose to go after Ellah." Her fingers curled around the collar, knuckles turning white. "Marcelo was my choice."

  "And Marcelo was my mistake long before that." I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. "I knew what he was. I used your presence to keep him at a distance. Put you both in his path without proper protection."

  She looked away again. "I don't need your protection. I never did."

  "Clearly." I gestured toward the mansion behind us. "You had Ross all along. A guard of Naerithi warriors. A network I knew nothing about."

  Bitterness slipped into my tone despite my efforts. She heard it. Her lips twisted into something almost like a smile.

  "Are you angry that I kept secrets, Jacobi? Or that you weren't the powerful man you thought you were?"

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  The question hit its mark. I exhaled slowly, feeling the truth of it settle in my chest. My entire identity had been built around control. Around knowing exactly who and what I possessed.

  "Both, I suppose." Honesty seemed the only path forward. "My pride is wounded. My sense of control shattered. And yes, I'm angry that you never trusted me enough to tell me the truth."

  Her expression softened fractionally. "That's a more honest answer than I expected."

  We sat in silence for several moments, watching green leaves shiver in the breeze. In the distance, a gardener worked among rows of vegetables. The normalcy felt surreal after everything that had happened.

  "What will we do?" She looked down at the collar in her hand. "When we go back?"

  The question caught me off guard. "Back?"

  "To the estate." She frowned. "I am going back, aren't I?"

  I hadn't thought beyond keeping her safe. Beyond finding Ellah and dealing with Marcelo. The idea of returning to normal life seemed impossible now.

  "Eventually." I shifted on the bench to face her more directly. "But not until you're ready. Not until we find Ellah."

  "And if we don't?" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "What if she's—"

  "We'll find her." I reached toward her, stopping just short of touching her hand. "Ross has his people searching. Selwyn's connections in the city are asking questions. We'll find her."

  She looked at my hand, hovering inches from hers. Neither of us moved to close the distance.

  "And Marcelo?" Her voice had gone hollow.

  I didn't hesitate. "Will pay for what he did."

  She nodded once, a sharp movement like punctuation.

  I studied her profile. The straight line of her nose. The stubborn set of her jaw. The way her eyelashes caught the light when she blinked. I had looked at this face a thousand times, but I was only now truly seeing it.

  "Do you want to tell me?" I asked quietly. "What he did to you?"

  Her fingers closed tightly around the collar until I feared the metal might cut into her palm.

  "No." Her eyes met mine, unflinching. "I can't. Not yet."

  "You don't owe me that story." I meant it. Whatever relationship we had once had—master and possession, employer and employee, something more complicated—it had shifted beyond recognition. "Not now. Not ever."

  She glanced at me sharply, like she was trying to determine if I was sincere. I met her gaze steadily.

  "You don't owe me anything," I continued. "But if you want to tell someone someday... I would listen."

  Something flickered across her face—surprise, perhaps. Or doubt.

  "You've never been good at listening, Jacobi." The words held no malice. Just truth.

  "Then I'll learn." I meant that too.

  She stood suddenly, the movement so swift it startled me. For a moment I thought she might walk away. Instead she stepped in front of me, standing close enough that I had to look up to meet her eyes. Without warning, she pressed the collar into my hand, closing my fingers around it.

  "Keep it." She held my gaze steadily. "I'll want it again. Someday. But I don't know when."

  I nodded, unable to speak past the tightness in my throat.

  She turned to leave, then paused. "Jacobi."

  "Yes?"

  A small furrow appeared between her eyebrows. "You've changed."

  "Perhaps." I held her gaze. "Or perhaps you're only now seeing me clearly."

  Something shifted in her expression. Not quite softening. Recognition, maybe.

  She nodded once, as if confirming something to herself. Then she walked away, back toward the house, leaving me alone on the garden bench with her collar digging into my palm and the scent of lavender lingering in the air behind her.

  I watched her go, the way she moved with deliberate steps. Not the fluid grace I was accustomed to, but something more measured. Careful. As if each movement required thought.

  When she disappeared around the corner of the mansion, I remained on the bench, trying to make sense of what had just happened between us. Not reconciliation. Not forgiveness. But perhaps the beginning of something new.

  The weight of the collar in my hand felt significant. A trust, of sorts. A promise that someday she might want it back. Not as a symbol of ownership, but as something else. Something of her own choosing.

  I turned the collar over in my hands, studying the purple gems. I'd chosen them because they complemented her silver eyes, never knowing the significance of the color in Naerithi culture. Ross had explained it yesterday—purple was the color of protection. Of guardians. I'd unwittingly marked her as exactly what she was.

  A shadow fell across the path. I looked up to find Selwyn standing there, watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read.

  "I thought you might be here." His voice was quiet, controlled. "Did you speak with her?"

  I nodded, sliding the collar back into my pocket. "Briefly."

  He sat beside me, more distance between us than usual. The easy camaraderie we'd sometimes shared had been even more strained since finding Joy. Since witnessing what Marcelo had done to her.

  "And?" His eyes tracked a butterfly moving among the flowers.

  "And nothing." I leaned back, stretching my legs before me. "She's not ready to talk about what happened."

  "Did you give her the collar?"

  I nodded. "She asked me to keep it for her. Until she's ready."

  Something flashed across his face too quickly to identify. "I see."

  We sat in uncomfortable silence for several moments. A tension had grown between us these past few days. Something new and dangerous that neither of us knew how to navigate.

  "We need to talk about it eventually." I kept my voice low, though no one was near enough to hear. "How we both feel about her."

  Selwyn's jaw tightened. "Now isn't the time."

  "When then?" I turned to face him more directly. "When she's recovered? When we find Ellah? When we deal with Marcelo?"

  "Perhaps never." His voice had gone cold. "Perhaps what we feel doesn't matter."

  The words stung more than I expected. "You can't believe that."

  He turned to look at me then, really look at me. His eyes held something I hadn't seen before. Not quite anger. Not quite resentment. Something harder to name.

  "I believe what matters is what she wants." He stood, brushing invisible dust from his trousers. "Not what either of us want."

  I couldn't argue with that. Not after everything she'd been through. Not after the way I'd treated her as property for so long.

  "And if what she wants is you?" The question emerged before I could stop it.

  Selwyn's expression softened marginally. "Then we'll deal with that when the time comes."

  He walked away before I could respond, heading in the opposite direction from where Joy had gone. I watched him until he too disappeared from view.

  I sat there long after both of them had gone, watching shadows shift across the garden stones as clouds passed overhead. I thought about the coldness that had settled in my chest when we found her in that cellar. About how easily I could have slid a knife into Dario's throat. About how much I wanted to find Marcelo and make him suffer.

  About how much I'd changed since she came into my life.

  The morning grew warmer. Servants passed by on distant paths, carrying linens or food or messages. Ross's household functioned with quiet efficiency, every person knowing their place and purpose. I envied their certainty.

  My thoughts circled back to Joy. To the careful way she held herself now, as if afraid sudden movements might break something. To the wariness in her eyes when anyone came too close. To the nightmares that woke her screaming, according to Clover.

  And yet beneath the trauma, I'd glimpsed something else today. A spark of the woman I knew. Defiance when she'd challenged me about my motives. Strength when she'd met my gaze unflinching.

  She would survive this. She would heal. And I would be there, if she allowed it.

  It wasn't until the sun shifted position in the sky that I finally rose and made my way back to the house, the collar tucked safely in my pocket. Not as a symbol of ownership. But as a reminder of everything I'd almost lost.

  It was enough, for now.