He wipes his nose on the back of his hand as his beady eyes shift over the seven demons standing above him.
“Are—are any of them—p-p-pleasure demons?” The cocksucker asks on a squeak of a voice.
My lip curls back as I stand here. Every muscle in my body roars to lash out at him.
But powerful magic binds me in place. All I can do is stand still, glued to this spot. Even my voice is not my own in this moment. It’s his. And he’s willed it to shut the fuck up until I get my permanent bindings.
The clustered sound of too many people in one place rumbles around the little courtyard this fucking auction has been set up in on the east side of the castle. Guess they wanted good sunlight to show off their fucking pets in.
I shiver hard from the fever pounding through my skull. They didn’t want to take the time to heal us. We’ll be someone else’s problem soon enough.
“Okay, quiet down. Quiet down and the auction will begin,” the woman yells with a piercing pitch that causes my eye to twitch.
“First up, we have a fine, hardworking creature. Good laborer. Perfect for farm work or heavy lifting,” the dark-haired little woman says as she motions to the first demon at the far side of the stage.
I’m last.
Damien will go before me.
And then... we might be split up.
A slamming feeling pounds through my chest, and I keep my eyes trained straight ahead. I mentally calculate how many attendees there are here. A hundred. Maybe a hundred and fifty. Some of them are clearly just fucking gawkers not looking to buy at all.
But the odds that we’ll be bought by the same person... it doesn’t look good for us.
“Next up, we have a smaller one. On the smaller side but still a good buy. Perfect for household chores or just personal use,” the woman tells the crowd. The way she sayspersonal usesets a tightness in my throat that feels a little like rage and bile all mixed into one.
Sweat clings to my temples, and it pours off of me the longer the auction carries on. One by one, bidders call out to bind their everlasting souls to the demons standing at my side. In sickness and in health. Until death do they part.
And then, Damien’s next.
“This one’s easy on the eyes. On the dirty side, but nothing a nice hot bath couldn’t clean up, am I right, ladies? Those arms are made for lifting. Definitely an indoor or outdoor use for this one.”
I’m going to be sick. I’m going to chuck chunks all over this fucking woman’s glittering white shoes, and then I’m going to pray to the gods above to remember I fuckin’ exist and that our power has got to be stronger than some fucked-up demon-fae bindings.
“What do you say? A hundred crowns to your king? Do I hear one hundred?”
“A hundred,” someone calls from the back.
“One-ten,” someone yells.
“Two hundred,” Someone else says with a voice of confident finality.
“Oh... Well, someone wants that heavy lifting, it sounds like,” the auctioneer says with a wag of her dark eyebrows. “Two-ten, anyone?”
“Two-ten,” a woman in a fine gown and big blonde wings says with a wave of her elegant hand. Gemstones glitter from her fingers as she eats up the sight of my brother where he stands above her.
“Five hundred crowns and please move on,” the familiar voice calls.
Whispers scuttle through the crowd, and even I try to catch a glimpse of the cocky woman. My lips curve in a slow smile as she steps slowly forward. Long silver hair fans across her big black wings, and she makes no effort to pull them fully in against her back as she passes the other attendees.
Aries.
I can’t explain the way my heart soars like it’s suddenly grown wings of its own.
She comes to the rich bitch’s side, and she looks her dead in the face.
“Princess,” Rich Bitch says. “I had no idea you participated in this kind of thing.”
