The Tiger carries me from empty room to empty room, revealing a sprawling, crumbling mansion. Broken banisters, cracked paneling, fungi in every corner. In the hallway, I notice bullet holes in the wall and rusty red stains splattered across the wallpaper like an abstract painting.
I bite back a whimper and look away.
Finally, he carries me into what must have once been a formal living room. The fireplace is overgrown with vines and a doorless doorway yawns open like a dark mouth. The yard beyond the windows is densely weeded, with looming hedges blotting out the night sky.
In the middle of the space is a rickety wooden chair.
The Tiger stands me next to it. I tremble on shaky legs, but I force myself to stay upright as Petyr walks into the room after us.
“Take off her bindings,” he o
