Three days passed in that hellish cage before I had my first real opportunity to test the strange power I felt coursing through my veins.
The slave pens of Blackwater Hold were exactly as I remembered them – a maze of iron cages built into the foundation of the fortress, damp and reeking of human misery. Guards patrolled the corridors at regular intervals, their boots echoing off the stone walls. Most of them were brutes, men who enjoyed their work a little too much.
But there was one who was different.
Thomas Aldred was young, maybe twenty-five, with kind eyes and a gentle demeanor that seemed out of place in this pit of suffering. I remembered him from my first time here. He had been the only guard who had shown me any kindness, smuggling me extra food when he thought no one was looking.
In my previous life, I had been too broken, too terrified to do anything but accept his charity with grateful tears. But I wasn't that girl anymore.
I watched him make his rounds, noting his patterns, his weaknesses. He always stopped to check on the youngest prisoners, his face twisted with obvious disgust at what he was forced to participate in. He was a man with a conscience in a place where such things were dangerous luxuries.
Perfect.
On the third night, when the other guards were drinking themselves stupid in the barracks above, Thomas came down alone for his final patrol. I waited until he was close to my cage, then pressed myself against the bars.
"Please," I whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. "I need water."
He stopped, his hand going instinctively to the water skin at his hip. "I'm not supposed to—"
"Please." I let my voice crack, injecting just the right amount of desperation. "I haven't had any since this morning. I'm so thirsty."
Thomas looked around nervously, then approached my cage. He was close enough now that I could smell the leather of his armor, see the conflict warring in his brown eyes.
"Just a sip," he said, producing the water skin. "If Captain Garrett finds out..."
"He won't." I reached through the bars as he held the skin to my lips. The water was warm and tasted of metal, but I drank gratefully. When I finished, I didn't pull away. Instead, I let my fingers brush against his hand.
"Thank you," I breathed, looking up at him through my lashes. "You're the only one who's shown me any kindness."
Thomas's cheeks flushed red. "It's not right, what they do here. You're just a child."
"I'm sixteen," I said softly. "Old enough to know kindness when I see it."
He should have pulled away then. Should have finished his rounds and left me to rot like the others. But Thomas was exactly the kind of man who couldn't ignore suffering when it was staring him in the face.
"What's your name?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Elena." The lie came easily. "What's yours?"
"Thomas." He glanced around again, then leaned closer. "I'm sorry you're here. I'm sorry this happened to you."
"It's not your fault," I said, and meant it. Men like Thomas were victims of this system too, trapped by circumstances and duty into participating in horrors they couldn't prevent. "But maybe... maybe you could help me?"
Something flickered in his eyes. Hope, maybe. Or guilt. "I can't let you out. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't. They'd kill us both."
"I know." I reached through the bars again, this time placing my hand over his. "But there are other ways to help."
"What do you mean?"
I leaned closer, until our faces were separated by just a few inches and the iron bars between us. "I mean that sometimes, the greatest kindness is just human connection. Being reminded that you're not alone."
Thomas stared at me, his breathing shallow. I could see the war going on behind his eyes – duty versus compassion, fear versus desire. He was a good man, but he was also young and lonely, probably as trapped in this place as any of the slaves.
"I shouldn't," he whispered, but he didn't pull away.
"Sometimes we all do things we shouldn't," I said softly. "Sometimes that's what makes us human."
I pressed my lips to his through the bars.
The effect was immediate and overwhelming. The moment our lips touched, I felt something surge through me – not just the physical sensation of the kiss, but something deeper. Images flooded my mind, memories that weren't my own.
Thomas as a boy, crying as his father sold their farm to pay debts. Thomas joining the garrison at Blackwater Hold because it was the only job he could find. Thomas lying awake at night, listening to the slaves weep in their cages and hating himself for doing nothing to help them.
But it wasn't just memories. I could feel his emotions as if they were my own – his loneliness, his guilt, his desperate need for connection. And underneath it all, something else. Something I could take.
His knowledge. His skills. His secrets.
I saw through his eyes as Captain Garrett counted the gold from the last slave auction. I felt his hands as he learned to pick locks during his youth on the streets. I experienced his training with sword and dagger, the muscle memory of years of practice flowing into my own body.
When we finally broke apart, Thomas staggered backward, his face pale and confused. "I... what was that?"
I touched my lips, still tingling with residual power. "That was goodbye, Thomas."
He blinked, swaying on his feet. "I don't... I feel strange."
"You'll be fine," I said, though I wasn't entirely sure that was true. "Just tired. You should get some rest."
Thomas nodded vaguely, then turned and walked away like a man in a dream. I watched him go, feeling the new knowledge settling into my mind like pieces of a puzzle clicking into place.
I knew now how to pick the locks on these cages. I knew the guard rotations, the layout of the fortress, the location of the armory. I knew which merchants would be at the next auction, and how much gold they typically carried.
But more than that, I understood the true nature of the gift I had been given. The kiss hadn't just been a way to steal Thomas's memories – it had been a way to steal pieces of his very soul. His skills, his knowledge, his experiences. All of it was mine now.
I flexed my fingers, feeling the phantom memory of sword work that had never belonged to me. My body was still that of a sixteen-year-old girl, but my mind now held the combat training of a seasoned guard.
The ancient presence had been right. This was power beyond my wildest imagination. And I was only just beginning to understand its potential.
I looked around the slave pen with new eyes. Every person here was a potential source of knowledge, of skills, of secrets. The broken woman in the corner who had once been a merchant's wife – she would know about trade routes and hidden caches of gold. The teenager who had been a pickpocket before his capture – he would know the underworld, the thieves' guilds, the hidden passages through the city.
All of it could be mine. All I had to do was kiss them.
A slow smile spread across my face. I had thought my rebirth was simply a chance for revenge. But it was so much more than that. I had been given the ultimate weapon – the ability to steal the very essence of what made a person who they were.
By the time I was ready to leave this place, I wouldn't just be Elena Thorne, a frightened slave girl. I would be a composite of everyone I had touched, their combined knowledge and skills forged into something new and terrifying.
The Crimson Queen was dead. But in her place, something far more dangerous was being born.
I settled back against the cold stone wall and began to plan. Thomas would be back tomorrow night – he always was, drawn by guilt and loneliness to check on the prisoners. And when he came, I would be ready.
After all, one kiss was just the beginning. I had an entire fortress full of potential victims, and all the time in the world to perfect my technique.
The game had begun, and I was already winning.