As instructed, the werewolf followed behind him. Lye walked through the Seventh Sanctum toward the large longhouse butt against the cliffside, past the several wooden homes billowing smoke from their chimneys. The brutish soldiers and snake-eyed assassins littered about the camp whistled and catcalled as Camille walk behind them. Their gazes teased at the furs she clung tightly to her body. Compared to the surviving slave girl, Camille offered more in every way. To Lye, he could only grin -- If only they knew how dangerous that rose’s thorns were.

“Come,” Lye called out as he opened another set of large, banded doors to the longhouse. Heat from the massive central hearth billowed out into the frigid winter air. Camille’s blond locks swept up and swayed in the updraft. Inside, the floors shone with polished marble. Stairs lead to a second level rimmed with doors to rooms unknown. At the back, atop a raised platform sat a large, white throne made from human ivory. Beside the throne, two more large doors sat closed with iron bars raised to the sides for banding shut.

The young lycan’s eyes drank in the atmosphere around her. Had she not been held captive this place would be breathtaking. Her dark gaze darting left to right.

“Sir,” greeted an athletically built and well-dressed man no older than thirty. His chocolate brown eyes snapped from Lye to Camille then back. “Is this the other one?”

“Caellus, take her to get bathed and cleaned.” Lye waited for Camille to enter before pulling the great doors closed. “I’ll get with Hrothgar for her… attire.” The assassin’s lips curled slightly at the edges. “Be careful with this one. She’s lycan. If she starts to change, snap her neck.”

“Yessir,” Caellus nodded his head

Lye turned to Camille and held out his hand.

“You’re lucky none of them threw you to the snow right there or that knife would have come in handy. I’ll take it back now, please.”

Camille’s mouth fell open slightly in a pout, the knife was the only thing that made her feel semi safe. “B-but..” Camille’s plush lower lip jutted out in a pouting manner. Her hand still holding tightly on the only real weapon she had to protect herself. The look on Lye’s face showed he wasn’t budging with his choice. “Fine,” she glared shoving the knife in his direction handing it over.

The young man ushered her past the thrones, glancing back towards Lye before entering another room. The smell of the earth filling her nostrils, this was a sign the room was made from the mountain the camp was stationed next to. The smell of the crisp air calmed the lycan woman for a moment before she felt a small push guiding her towards two more large doors made of iron. The smell of burning wood mixed with the air as she caught sight of a fire towards the rear of the room. The hand guided through the doors into a room that smelled like old blood. Her stomach clenched with uneasiness. Cages swayed hung from the ceiling others on the ground, different tools that were made for torturing people for pleasure and extracting information from them.

Six large tubs were filled with hot water, at the far end of the room a person was already washing up. Camille looked back at the men, “I can bathe myself you can wait out there.” Her hand pointing towards the area they had just come through. Just as she suspected though the men shook their head. “Can’t do that so you might as well just get in,” the man that had been called Caellus informed her. Stripping off the fur that she had clutched tightly and throwing it at his face before she submerged in the tub. A small groan part her lips a she sunk lower into the scorching hot water. Her muscles and joints starting to relax as she took the soap that was on the stand next to the tub. Massaging and lathering the suds along her arms and legs before washing it off.

The smell of cinnamon perfumed the air around her before she went to work on her rat’s nest of hair. After rinsing the soap out she splashed water on her face before going under the water. A few moments later she came up for eye, the men eyeing her with a slightly lust for look. “Come on lets get you dressed,” Caellus motioned for her to step out into the towel he held open. “Thanks,” she mumbled wrapping the towel around her body tightly.