“We were bought there and sent here.” The older changeling holds her hand out, and the slave behind her puts a rusty meat cleaver into her palm. “Becauseyourkind uses us until we give out. Until we don’t want to live anymore.” They keep advancing, and more slaves pour into the courtyard behind me.
I’m hemmed in. I open my mouth to respond to her, but a shock of fear quakes down the bond. “Beth.” I turn, but there’s nowhere to go. There are too many slaves, their eyes on me, weapons drawn.
Movement to my right catches my eye—one of our fighters is crouching on a balcony, and others have fanned out around the courtyard. They’re waiting for battle. But this isn’t who we came to fight.
“Listen to me.” I turn and hold a hand out, trying to ward her off. “We’ve come here to bring you news. Silmaran has prevailed in Cranthum. The city has been liberated.”
That stops them.
I point to Baralja. “Look.” Then I wave my hand around at the fighters hidden in plain sight. “Baralja, show them your slave bands.”
He jumps down from the low balcony roof where he’d been perched and holds out his arms. The black bands that encircle him are thick and unmistakable.
The leader squints at him. “So? Maybe you’re his master and this is just—”
“I am free!” Baralja beats his chest with one fist. “As are all my brothers and sisters.” The other freed slaves stalk into the courtyard, their weapons ready for bloodshed if it comes to it, but they aren’t aggressive. Most of them bear slave bands, and some even show their scars from the lash. None of them left slavery without the burden of it showing on their skin.
“I’m telling you the truth.” I close my eyes for a second and reach out for my mate. Beth’s fear fades, and the band of iron around my heart loosens a bit. Why was she scared? I swallow hard and send a question to her, a general check on her wellbeing. She’s not used to the connection, so I know she can’t answer me in words. But I’m looking for anything, any hint that she’s all right. Something like resolve filters back. Resolve? For what? Parnon swore to me she’d be safe, and the magic hasn’t snapped on that vow.Steady. I have to stay steady or this situation is going to get out of hand quickly.
“Silmaran promised us freedom. Now we have it.” Another fighter steps forward, her head held high.
The slaves whisper now, their voices growing louder as they stare at the fighters.
The stone man dangles Chastain a few feet off the ground. “All are free?”
“Yes.” I take a chance and sheathe my sword. “And we’ve come to do the same for you.” I glance around as the tension slows to a simmer. “But it appears we’re a bit late. What happened here?”
“Another lord showed up not long ago. He was like you, promising freedom.” The leader turns sour again.
“Cenet?”
“Aye, that was his name.” She nods. “He killed the slavers. Put them to sleep, then mowed them down one by one. Can’t say I was too sad about that.” She shrugs. “But instead of freeing us, he took the strongest of us. It’s like he hypnotized them with his snake eyes, and they took off marching. All the slaves who were still worth a damn are his now. Not free like he said. They’re his army, and he’s herding them to Cranthum.”
“The burning bodies?” I ask.
“The masters.” She grins. “Put them in the peat pit, figured it was a fair way to repay them for all theirkindness.”
“We have to move, to get back to Silmaran.” Chastain struggles against the stone man, who finally relents and lowers him to the ground. “If Cenet reaches her with his army, I don’t know what will happen.”
“Especially if Queen Aurentia is attacking from the north.” I rub the bridge of my nose at the thought of that battle, the vise the two aggressors would create around Cranthum. But I never agreed to return to Cranthum. My route lies away from here with Beth at my side.
“He must have made for the Grave Bridge.” Chastain hurries to me, ignoring the angry slaves around us. “He’s going to go up and around Siren Sound and attack the city from the west.”
“He is.” The old changeling nods, the cleaver still in her hand.
“We’ll never beat him to the city. We can’t go back through the Abyss.” Baralja pulls the scarf over his mouth free. The ashen wind has finally shifted, and we can all breathe.
“No, and even if we catch up to Cenet on foot, if he’s enthralled the slaves, we have no chance of defeating him.” I can’t see a way out of this. We’re cut off from Cranthum, and the only way back to it is either through an army—certain death—or through Siren Sound—even more certain death.
“We could try the Neverending Sea.” Worry is riding Chastain hard. His chosen mate is in the sights of at least two enemies, not to mention the troubles that may have already erupted within Cranthum since the liberation.
“The sea promises a quicker death.” The old changeling nods. “But that’s all. And do you see any ships around here?” She puts her hand over her eyes as if to block the sun and peers around. “Any ships at all?” Dropping her hand, she says, “Use your brain, high fae. We have no ships, no way to sail around the Abyss, not to mention you’d die trying. I want to save Silmaran, too.” Her eyes go serious again. “I have a soft spot for that girl, I surely do, but there’s no way.”
“You know Silmaran?”
“Of course I do!” She hands off the cleaver as the miners fan out and speak with the freed slaves from Cranthum.
The old changeling’s manner of speaking—she’s from Byrn Varyndr. I step closer and peer down at her. “You’re Clotty.”
