Credence found a tailor's shop, and after what felt like several laborious hours of pulling clothes on and off, she settled for a pair of green pants and a rosy blouse with puffed, frilled sleeves.

The pants had to be held around her waist by an length of rope, but there was a beauty to the blouse that delighted Credence when she first laid eyes on it. The exaggerated sleeves had to go, however, if she wanted to move around freely, so she took a pair of shears to the garment and said goodbye to the ostentatious arms. There was no mirror in which to view herself, but Credence considered that a blessing. She didn't imagine the outfit resembled anything close to flattering.

Not that it mattered, for there was no one she wished to impress.

She made a quick stop at Sally's tavern to grab Ma's book, then carried the clothes and book to the lake. The cool water eased her muscles, but her mind was still turning.

"How do I open the vault," she pondered out loud, "and get inside to the Queen?"

When she did, she would release the monarch, and the Queen would be so grateful she would no doubt help Credence escape the purple world. Maybe they could take down the Collector together.

Of course, all of it hinged on Credence finding a way to open the vault door.

Think, think, think...

She always arrived at the same answer, but it was the last one she wanted to accept.

Bargain with the Collector.

"I don't want to," she argued. "I'll never agree with—" She stopped herself from saying his name, fearing it would bring him to her. "With that monster."

She began singing to distract her mind.

After bathing, she left the water and wrapped a piece of linen she found in the tailor's shop around her shoulders, noting that if she hadn't thought to bring it with her, she would have been forced to remain unclothed while she waited to dry.

Where anyone could have stumbled upon her.

What would John do if he came to fetch me for dinner and found me like that?

The thought of what expression might paint his face made her bristle—

Then giggle and blush.

She dressed and settled onto a patch of grass near the water, then opened her book to the guide for enemies, hoping Ma might have something to say about vaults and locked doors.

'Find a common interest and exploit it...'

'Tip the balance of anger in their direction...'

'Do something to surprise them...'

These were vague and gave little help.

Where's the part about tricking them into giving up a key, she asked silently.

And what possible common interest could she share with the Collector?

How could she tip the balance of anger when a few words from him could send her into tears?

What could she do that would ever catch such a powerful being by surprise?

Ma's enemies must have been weak.

She never encountered a foe like mine.

Hadn't she?

Ma had been promised to him, too. Did the Collector treat her differently? Had she once been a captive in another purple world?

He should have courted Lilith instead. Credence laughed at the thought. She's more his equal.

She leaned back onto the grass, amused by the picture of Lilith taking the Collector's hand. What a gruesome pair they'd make—Lilith probably would have preferred the beast to the man.

Her eyelids lowered as the rhythm of splashing water lulled Credence to sleep.

***

She was in the dining hall, reaching for a glass of dark liquid.

Across the table sat the Collector, watching her. She didn't hold his stare for long before dropping her eyes to the food in front of her.

It was moving.

Not scurrying around like an animal, but the bread on her plate was pulsing, and the berries next to it shivered.

The Collector's voice stirred her from the food.

"Did you miss me?"

"No."

"You don't mean that. Come now, tell the truth."

"That is the truth."

"You're being stubborn."

"I'm being held against my will."

"You have everything you could ever want here."

"No. This world is a toy. There is nothing real about it, so there is nothing I care for within it."

"One thing is real," he said carefully. "My love for you."

Credence released a mean laugh. "You don't know what love is."

His eyes softened.

"Why don't you show me then?"

It was a plea.

"Why don't you show me," he repeated. "Why don't you release us both from this prison?"

***

Her eyes opened to the lake and waterfall.

"You're a coward," she said to the air, "to visit me like that. Are you so frightened of me?"

That was only if, of course, it had been the real Collector she had spoken to in her dreams—

And not her own mind.

Her eyes fell to the open page of Ma's book and one sentence caught her eye.

'If all else fails, try seduction. It may not get you everywhere, but you won't know unless you try.'

Credence reread the sentence.

Seduction. What did such a thing look like?

'Make them think they are in control. Make them happy, then use that to your advantage. Manipulation. Feigning passion with the secret intent to win.'

"Passion," Credence murmured. 

'It's not about love,' Ma's writing explained, 'but desire. Create it, coax it, shape it like iron into a blade to hold against your enemy's throat.'

The next line made Credence shiver.

'Only take care that you do not fall prey to it yourself.'

"Never," Credence whispered.

There was still no explanation of what she could do, or the precise steps to take.

'Make them happy.'

She knew what happiness looked like. She would start there.

He thinks he'll be happy if we marry. I could make him believe that I think it's not such a foul idea—that all I need is time. Or a sign of his devotion.

Like a key to a vault.

She would have to be careful, lest he grew suspicious. It could take years to pull such a ruse.

Lucky for Credence, time was all she had in the Collector's world.

***

John found Credence pacing near the lake.

With a heavy sigh he held out the rope.

"Your wrists, Credence. It's time for dinner."

Credence paused, only just realizing he was there. She shook her head.

"No."

"You know you must—"

"I'll go freely."

John's eyes narrowed. "I will catch you if you run. Even with this limp."

"I know."

"There's nowhere to go—"

"I know."

John gave a curt nod before extending his arm towards the trees. "Lead the way."

He did not prod her for an explanation, and for that Credence was grateful. She didn't want to justify the abrupt change in her normally defiant attitude towards dinner.

She was still trying to understand it herself.

A part of her looked forward to seeing the Collector, so she could test the beginnings of her plan. She needed a victory to prove to herself that she was on the right path.

If only the Collector would join her for dinner.

He didn't disappoint, appearing at the balcony moments after John took his leave, and descended to the feast with an echo of bells.

Credence chose to remain standing until he arrived, an unusual show of manners that did not go unnoticed by her host. The Collector nodded at her, and for a long, awkward moment neither one moved to take their seat. It dawned on Credence that he was waiting for her to move first, perhaps out of social courtesy, perhaps to gain some kind of advantage.

She allowed him a minor win and took her seat. The Collector followed suit.

They spoke at the same time.

"Good evening—" said Credence.

"You've changed—" said the Collector.

Mutual embarrassment rolled over the room.

"Apologies," the Collector continued. "I only meant to remark on your clothing."

"Do you like it?"

The Collector didn't reply, and Credence sensed his silence was given out of good manners. Her apparel must have been truly ridiculous if the Collector couldn't convincingly lie about its appeal.

"I had a difficult time finding something I liked," Credence offered as an explanation.

The Collector frowned. "I didn't think such things would matter, but I was mistaken. I'll see to it that you have more to choose from."

"These suit me fine."

"But you might enjoy something elegant," the Collector said, then added carefully, "A dress?"

I might, Credence's mind answered instantly.

"I fear the only thing you would offer me is the gown of a bride."

"No, my lady should wear beautiful things."

"I'm not your lady."

"Yes, you are."

The Collector began to fill his plate and Credence followed.

"You were not present at our last dinner," she said.

"I had matters to tend to."

"What matters?"

"Unrest among my subjects. Trivial."

"Doesn't feel fair that you get to choose whether or not to attend dinner."

"Did my absence displease you?"

A little, her mind said.

"No."

"Does my presence now displease you?"

I'm not sure.

"Always."

"Yet you came to me untethered," he noted.

"Yes." Credence didn't like where this was leading. "And you came to me in my dreams."

"What?"

"Don't play innocent. You've done it before."

"But not here."

His convincing tone troubled her. If he hadn't influenced her dream, then it had been a conversation entirely of her own making.

There was no comfort in that knowledge.

"Why not visit my dreams, where I'm helpless?"

"You're not helpless, even in dreams."

Had he meant to compliment her?

"You could influence me."

"I wouldn't dare."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not my intent to influence you. I've only ever used dreams as a means to speak with you."

"To threaten me."

"You may feel that way, but that was never my purpose."

He stabbed a piece of meat, looking every bit as petulant as Credence felt.

"Were you at least pleased to have Galeia's book returned to you?"

His tone was hopeful.

Ma's book had been given to Credence when she first arrived, and he was only now asking her about it. He was searching for a sliver of gratitude.

He'd been waiting to hear a word of thanks.

Credence would have preferred his fury. She understood fury, but this grace, this struggle to be gentle, gave Credence's anger nowhere to strike.

Begrudgingly, she answered, "I was pleased to have it back."

It was the wrong answer, for his eyes lit up.

"I'm glad to hear it."

As much as it confused her, there was something in his amiability that Credence could use to her advantage. In her experience, when anything sinister intended to strike, it usually tried to calm its prey. Hansel and Gretel did it. John had done it, too. The Headmaster. Even Lilith had occasionally used a fake kind voice to lead Credence into a punishment.

There was a lesson to be learned about giving false reassurance.

Not a lesson, but an opportunity.

Shape desire into a blade.

Only practice would make perfect, and there was no time like the present to try.

"What other wonders have you built for me," Credence asked. "I've exhausted all the places I know."

"I thought you'd like to discover them alone."

She shrugged and hoped it looked innocent.

"The world is big. I may require a guide."

He almost dropped his fork.

"Would you...like me to show you?"

In a gesture that surprised even herself, Credence smiled at him.

"I might."

You're too bold, her mind warned, He's going to see right through you.

"Or maybe not," she added, allowing her tone to return to a modicum of severity.

The Collector nodded, eased by her familiar scorn. It was a funny thing, that they would both be troubled by the other's congeniality.

"If you wish for my company," he said, "you need only ask."

He lowered his eyes and grinned at his plate, caught somewhere between joy and confusion, and Credence allowed it without a scathing remark.

She remembered the look on his face when he appeared at the lake. She had caught him off guard just as much as he had her. It wasn't anger that disrupted him then, it was...

Humiliation. Curiosity—

Hope?

A similar expression played across his features now.

Giddy pride raced through her. She had done nothing but show the tiniest affability, and that made the Collector anxious. It lowered his guard the smallest inch.

Could it really be that simple?

They didn't say another word through the rest of dinner, and when they rose from their seats the Collector made no move towards her, purposefully keeping his distance, and regarded Credence like she was a wild animal.

"Goodnight," he whispered.

"Goodnight."

The door to the hall opened and the Collector turned to make his way up the staircase.

"Did you have a nice dinner?" John asked dully, expecting the usual rude reply.

"Not at first," Credence said loud enough for the Collector to hear, "but towards the end I found it almost...pleasant."

She risked a glance towards the Collector and saw him pause in his ascent. It was only a picosecond of time, but his hands twitched at his sides.

He resumed his walk and disappeared from the balcony.

"Well, well," John said. "I suppose even the coldest ice melts with enough heat."

***

Credence wandered the streets of the towns.

She didn't stop when she reached Sally's tavern, but moved on, guided by a dizzying rush of joy. She could not quiet the thoughts buzzing in her mind—and she didn't want to.

What a strange turn dinner had taken!

How easily she had maneuvered herself into a position of strength. A thrill chased through her body at the notion that all it might take to defeat the Collector was a smile. To see such an impressive force falter under her civility, his dominance diminished with nothing but a polite word...

If she could figure out how to harness and properly wield this ability, she could have anything she wanted.

The key to his vault. Her freedom.

There might be no end to what she could take from him.

All without ever giving an ounce of herself in return. Only the façade of courtesy.

It was a potent intoxication, unmatched by anything Credence had ever felt before.

It was true power.