Vilisant slipped the last of the chains from his ankles and stepped to the far side of the kitchen. The damnable woman had woven bindings through the steel, and even lying in a pile on the floor they were still trying to hold him in place. True to her word, she had taken the girl and gone, leaving him behind to slow their pursuers.
For a moment he just stood there, almost too furious to move: angry at the oracle Shiran, who had told him he was fated to marry this woman; angry at himself for thinking that she would want his help, let alone be grateful; angry at Sandra for dismissing him. Though that is at least better than taking my heart's blood for her own, or leaving me trapped here. He considered that thought more closely: wouldn't Shiran have been surprised if his fated lover had left him to die?
Then he closed all that away. He still had to protect the girl, no matter how much of a mess he and her mother had made of things so far.
He faded, moving in a direction that ordinary humans couldn't even perceive, sinking into the darkness beneath the world's skin. It wouldn't be long now.