Adam leaned against her, a slight touch, not one to be noticed by the GIM helping them, but she noticed.

“The iron ought to deter them from messing about with the walls,” a man murmured before unceremoniously shutting them in.

The room fell to utter darkness, not even a slant of light showing beneath the hidden door. A moment later, she heard the fae enter the pub. Worse, she felt them, like a burr under her skin, making it prickle and her heart beat faster.

“You there,” said the unmistakable voice of Mab. “Are you the proprietor of this… establishment?”

“Aye. Can I be helping you with something, Madam?”

In the cramped space, Eliza sat, arm pressed against Adam’s arm. The hard heat of his shoulder and biceps held her attention for one moment before Eliza concentrated on the words drifting in, on Mab’s voice.

“My granddaughter Eliza May has gone missing. She was last seen in the company of the coward Adam of the GIM while boarding a wine wagon. My servant followed the wagon as far as Houndsditch.” There was a pause, as if Mab wanted to let her words soak in. She continued on in a measured tone. “As this is the closest GIM hovel, reason stands that they have come here in search of sanctuary.”

An awkward silence descended before one of the GIM spoke. “It takes naught but a pair of good, working eyes to see that they aren’t here, Madam.”

Heels clicked against the floor. “If you’d like to keep your eyes, GIM, you’ll watch your mouth. I’ve no patience for your cheek. I know very well that you are likely harboring them.”

“Madam,” said the man quickly, “I wouldn’t touch the —”

Mab’s irritated snarl shot out.

“— walls,” the GIM finished. “The iron runs throughout, Madam.”

“Yes, I see that,” Mab snarled. “And I can well guess why. Now you mean to tell me that you are friend to the fae?”

Another voice piped up, a woman’s. “We never said we were. Surely you can’t blame us.”

Footsteps sounded as Mab prowled the room, trying to detect where Eliza and Adam might be hiding. Mab’s voice rang out, heavily laced with pomp and false graciousness. “You ought to be bowing down to me in gratitude. Your creator Adam has no power over you anymore. I have freed you all.”

Beside her, Adam let out a harsh breath that sounded overloud in the tight enclosure. With the tips of her fingers, Eliza touched his forearm. It was enough to distract him. His breath evened out, but his body remained as stone against her.

“Freed us?” came a snide reply. “Were you under the impression that we were slaves, then?”

A ringing silence followed. “Were you not beholden to his will?” Mab trilled out as though shocked that anyone would dare suggest otherwise.

A woman spoke. “We were given the choice to serve. That is not slavery.”

Adam’s head turned, making the slightest noise, and Eliza could feel the force of his gaze upon her. She was glad of the darkness that hid what would surely be recrimination in his eyes. Yes, all right, she’s accused him of being no better than a slave owner. But, admittedly, the GIM had not been bound in chains as she had.

“A choice of death or servitude hardly seems much of a choice at all,” said Mab.

“And yet we’d gladly make the same choice to serve Adam again,” said another man.

Beneath Eliza’s fingertips, the warm skin of Adam’s forearm twitched.

“Enough,” snarled Mab, loud enough that it rang through the small space in which they hid. “Adam’s reign is over. He is an enemy of the fae. Bring him and the girl to me, and you shall be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams.”

Silence.

Anger and a deadly coldness laced Mab’s next words. “Harbor him, and you shall suffer beyond all endurance.”

Eliza found herself leaning just a bit closer to Adam. He radiated warmth, though she feared it was feverish. At the moment, it did not matter, for she was growing so cold, so very cold. Deep within her, a shiver began, and with it came the urge to give in to that strange, unnatural laughter that always arrived when death grew near. No, no, no. She could not do this now. Eliza ground her teeth together and tried to push the urge away.

Outside, another voice rang out. “Threats, is it?” said a man. “Oh, now there’s a rich incentive to betray our creator. To be sure —” His words were cut off with a gurgled sound of pain.

Adam lurched, as if he’d rise, and Eliza clutched his wrist. It gave her the distraction she needed. Turning her head, she pressed her lips to his ear. “You cannot help him.” She mouthed the words for fear of being overheard. “You will merely make them all suffer.”

He gave a jerky nod. In the dark, Eliza’s hand slid into Adam’s larger one. Their fingers intertwined. As if one, a tremor rippled through their bodies. An awareness, an acknowledgment. Of what, Eliza did not know, but she felt connected to him. That this broken, wounded man would keep her safe was ridiculous. They had never been in greater danger.

“Don’t like what you see?” Mab said. “Then give the coward up to me. He is mine now. As is the girl. They are my property.”

Another agonized cry rang out.

Eliza’s chest quaked as she suppressed the horrible laughter that wanted to rise. Gods, but Mab was killing the poor GIM. Tears burned in Eliza’s eyes.

Next to her, Adam sucked in a soft breath, as he too reacted to the sounds of the GIM’s torture. Sweat and blood soaked his shirt. He burned too hot, but he remained still as the sounds of a man being slowly, methodically tortured came from without. Grunts, muffled screams, the grumble of protests so obviously bitten back by the rest of the GIM, for they too must have known it was a lost cause to retaliate in the face of the fae queen.