Dent woke her when the sun had barely risen, and she had been given a few minutes to dress in a pair of fresh clothes someone had left folded on a table in the closet. Nothing fit very well, but it was at least a pair of pants and a white shirt instead of a flouncing yellow dress. She braided her hair and tied it off with a ribbon, and slid on her familiar boots. Then she'd followed Dent out into the house, where he gave her a small breakfast of bread and cooked meat, which she ate as he gave her the tour of the house. He showed off the kitchen, pointed out the doors to the study and dining room, both of which she had been in before, and showed that the room she had first broken into was actually once a ballroom. This was all, apparently, so that she could know where to go for her new job of cleaning. Dent gave her a bucket stuffed with cleaning supplies, and Bo scowled at it.

"I would suggest you start in the dining room," Dent said. "It is one of the hardest rooms to clean."

"Nice," Bo said, but she hefted the bucket and turned with determination toward the door in the culdesac. She might be a slave, and she might want to show the Beast that she could be the biggest pain that ever gave him a headache, but she also couldn't escape the fierce surge in her blood that she got when she was faced with a challenge. If she had been given the task of cleaning by someone who thought she wasn't going to do a good job, she had to prove to them she was the best cleaner on the entire planet.

"Wait a minute, Bo," Dent said, zooming in front of her. "I have to tell you one more thing. The upstairs is taken care of by myself and the other Service-Matons, so you are to clean all the rooms I showed you downstairs. However, the room behind the large double doors is off-limits. That is the Master's study, and he does not allow others into it without permission."

Bo remembered the room stuffed to the gills with random items and furniture. That had been where the Beast had made her stand in her yellow dress while he stared at her. She had no idea why that room would be off-limits, or why it was called a study when there was no desk or other scholarly items anywhere in view, but she knew that Dent wouldn't leave her alone until she acknowledged his ban.

"Understood," she said, standing rigid and saluting him in the way Aston had always been nagging everyone in the camp to adopt.

Dent didn't seem to understand this gesture, and turned to zoom away without even remarking on it. Bo rolled her eyes, wishing she'd gotten Fil or Madame, who were more likely to interact with her beyond bossy orders.

She spent the whole morning cleaning the dining room and kitchen. It was mostly dusting, as the house was old and the Beast wasn't exactly a fan of minimalism. She only met a few more of the Service-Matons, two female-voiced ones called Com and Plon, but they said hardly a word to her and continued on their way to tend the gardens. The house stood empty after that, as if she was the only one in it.

After just an hour, she had been dying of boredom, and by the time the lunch hour rolled around she was ready to jump out a window. Going from patrolling the walls of her camp to make sure no roving bandits or starving animals were poised to attack, to sitting in a room running a damp cloth over the ten millionth ceramic statuette, was just about as maddening a downgrade as Bo could imagine. She wanted to be out in the open, under the sun, covered in sweat and with her mind whirring as she thought of strategies and plans. Instead, she set the final pastoral lamb back on the mantel of the kitchen and fought to keep her eyes open.

There were still around four or five rooms to clean in her downstairs jurisdiction, but they were mostly empty or stacked with boxes. How could the Beast or his robots ever know she hadn't been in there, anyway? She'd just call it for the day and go back to her room.

Dumping the bucket of her cleaning supplies by the door into the kitchen, Bo walked back into the entrance hall and stretched her arms over her head. She needed to ask if the Beast had any materials she could use to draw or write on, but she didn't think now would be the best time. She was pretty much ditching her one chore, after all.

She was halfway to the stairs, when she glanced to her side and saw the imposing double doors of the Beast's study. They were slightly open, showing the jumble of flotsam that clogged the room beyond. The fireplace was still the only light in the room, and Bo could only barely make out something like a marble statue and some candles. But still, even just those raised her curiosity. What even was the point of the room? It had been so stuffed and chaotic, nothing at all like the rest of the house. It was almost like a dragon hoard. In her favorite book at home, the dragons kept stashes of glittering gold hidden away in their caves, guarded and useless. She saw that same brooding greed in the Beast's study.

And she also saw a place the Beast didn't want her to go into. Whether this was because there was something in there that could help her escape, or simply because he didn't want others to come near his treasure, it still meant that he had a weakness she could poke. He may never know that she had stepped foot in the forbidden place, but she'd still know. She'd know that she wasn't completely under his control.

Glancing around to make sure that Dent and his cronies were nowhere to be seen, she crept down the hallway to the double doors and slid through the crack between them. It was too dim in the room to see right away, so she stayed put for a moment to let her eyes adjust. When they did, she crept further in, subconsciously hunching under the weight of the silent reverence the room somehow gave off.

A collection of blonde dolls stared out at her with perfect blue eyes from their strange fete under a tea cabinet, and across from them a hand painted globe, half as tall as Bo, collected dust on countries that no longer existed. Everything was from before the war, when items could still be crafted with beauty and care. Nothing was made for decoration anymore, and what was made for use was all technology and metal. Bo hadn't ever seen such delicate features on a porcelain horse, or the hand painted flowers of a collection of delicate dishes.

She eased further into the room, wondering if there might be something she could use to escape. As she was eyeing a carved wooden curtain rod to figure out how useful as a weapon it might be, she noticed a blur of saffron yellow in her periphery. She was nearly at the other end of the room now, and when she turned she faced the fireplace.

Her yellow dress from the day before lay carefully across one of the piles of pre-war items. It had been placed near the shrine she had been forced to stand in, and it sent shivers down Bo's spine just by looking at it. She glanced at the mantel to see that her picture was still there as well. Her unseeing smile beamed into the room, unaware of the recipient that received it now.

Bo pressed her teeth together, hating that her picture was leered at by the alien. In fact, hadn't he stolen it from her father like he claimed her father stole the rose? Not that a faded photograph was anywhere near as precious as an extinct plant, at least not to the people who didn't care about the subject in the photo. At any rate, she had every right to reclaim the picture.

Picking her way through the narrow aisles between the clutter, Bo made her way to the fireplace. It wasn't until she was rising onto her tiptoes to reach the mantelpiece—too late to back out without being spotted—that she realized there was a rather enormous lump stretched across the sofa cushions. With a sinking stomach and a wince, she saw she stood directly next to the prone form of the Beast.

Almost as if her eyes falling on him had disturbed him, the Beast surged to up with a sharp inhale. His brown eyes swung to face Bo, and for a moment she thought she saw the faint sheen of water along one cheek. But then he rubbed his eyes and it was gone, and she knew she must have imagined it.

"Sorry, I didn't know you were in here. I was just, uh..." She glanced the mantelpiece and quickly ran her finger along the edge. It came away with a thick coat of dust, and she showed it to the Beast. "Cleaning."

He didn't respond to her, and she noticed that his fist clutched a piece of paper. This time she recognized it immediately as another photo, although this one looked even more worn than hers. Whatever this photo was of, the Beast must have kept it close if it was so bent and wrinkled. Curiosity got the best of Bo, and she casually stretched her shoulders and shifted her weight. As if she was merely stretching her side, she leaned toward the sofa where the Beast sat, and quickly sneaked a glance at the photo in his hand. 

He noticed almost immediately, and quickly pocketed the photo. Bo only had enough time to see it was a human figure, but she saw nothing beyond that as it disappeared into the Beast's pocket.

"Didn't the Service-Matons tell you not to come in here?" he asked, pushing to his feet. Bo shrugged and grimaced.

"I mean, they said a lot of stuff. I can't remember all of it."

The Beast rolled his eyes, a very human expression that looked strange on his face. His whole demeanor was one she might see on Aston or any of the other young men in the camp, and, in fact, despite his thick arms and military bearing, he actually seemed as if he might be around the same age as Aston.

" So they did tell you to stay out, but you ignored it," the Beast replied.

"What's even in here that's worth banning me from?" Bo asked, feeling defensive.

"My privacy? Peace and quiet?"

"Why even kidnap someone if you just want them to go away?" Bo asked, raising her eyebrows.

The Beast didn't answer, and in the silence Bo realized that she knew exactly why he had kidnapped her but wanted her to stay still and silent. The evidence was all around her, piled high in forgotten towers of hoarding. She was a treasure, not a person.

With chilled mood, Bo frowned. "You know what, never mind. I shouldn't have come in." She turned to go, but the Beast held out a hand to stop her. He didn't grab her or bar her way, but his fingers gently brushed her sleeve.

"Wait. Don't leave yet," he said. His hand strayed to the pocket where the photo had disappeared, but he didn't take it back out. Instead, his hand slowly curled into a fist and he dropped it by his side.

"What do you need?" Bo asked, anger biting her words. "If you haven't forgotten, I'm your slave and have to clean your castle." She hadn't been planning on doing anymore cleaning that day, but she'd say anything to get away from the alien.

"Stand here," he said, pointing to a spot directly in front of him. Bo toyed with the idea of spinning on her heel and leaving him behind, but she wasn't at all trusting of the alien's moods. He might be docile now, but she knew the horror stories of the Beast of Lyx and what he did to his victims in the war.

Finally, she stepped where he indicated, and crossed her arms while he looked at her. He glowed slightly in the dimness of the room.

He stared for a long time, and Bo worried he might ask her to go stand in the shrine again and arrange her hair. Thankfully, he kept his hands to himself, and only his eyes scanned her face.

When he finally spoke, Bo jolted at the sudden sound of it.

"Your father. You care what happens to him?"

"Of course."

His eyebrows drew together. "There is no 'of course'. It does not seem logical to me for a healthy warrior to give up their freedom for a feeble elder."

Bo laughed, but it was filed with hatred and haunted memories. "That's the difference between us and you." She leaned forward, wishing she could have a weapon to drive into his chest and end the life of the last of the creatures that had cost so much pain on her planet. "We're human."

The Beast cocked his head. "What is it like?" he asked.

"What is what like?" Bo asked, exasperated.

If he'd had an answer, he didn't give it to her. Instead, he turned and sat back down on the sofa. He covered his face with his hands and leaned his head back. His whole demeanor spoke of exhaustion, and even Bo could tell that he was depleted. His shoulders drooped and his voice came out muffled between his hands. "You may leave now."

She knew he didn't mean from his service, but she still felt a twinge of excitement at the words. She also didn't wait around or argue at his orders. Without another word, she turned on her heel and marched for the door. She didn't turn around until she was halfway to the door.

The back of the room was barely visible from her vantage, but she could still make out the Beast, looming in the shadows. He had leaned forward and pulled the photo back out from his pocket. She still could see nothing other than a shadowy figure, but she saw the Beast staring at it as if it was his last day alive. He didn't move to see if she had left, but she stood a moment longer before she started walking again. As she turned to leave, she couldn't quite be sure if she really did see his shoulders shivering in the silence.